Victory Born out of A Curse
by Cordogg
Summary: The son of Doc Hudson becomes a living legend in his own right, but his road to the top was plagued by misfortune.
1. Chapter 1

**Here is chapter one. This will most likely be 10-plus chapters. **

**Please note that it may take a few weeks before I get my next chapter up. I got serious finals coming up and I gotta study. Chick redeems himself (in a separate fic) and is Monarch's crew chief, King owns Dinoco as Tex has retired. **

**Please enjoy!!**

The slick build car pulled up to the mausoleum . He was a professional stock car racer. Color, the distinctive blue of Dinoco, speaking of which was

lettered in large print on both sides of him. "Dinoco" was also tattooed in the corners of each of his eyes near his sides, as well as on his rear

bumper. Above it: _Chick Thunder Hicks_. Chick was his crew chief. On one side he bore the name of his father _The Fabulous Hudson Hornet_ in the

exact same style as his sire used to wear it in his race days. On the other side he bore the retired emblem name and number of _Strip "The King" _

_Weathers_, Dinoco's current owner. He took over Dinoco one Tex retired. And on his back trunk, he had the number and name of _Lightning McQueen_,

who, along with his father was one of his racing tutors. All four had inspired him to race and were now part of his professional crew. He had a

majestic look about him, this rather bizarre cross between an antique like "Pops" and a modern day luxury sports car. His fake headlights, if they

could even be called that, sat high up on his hood, about halfway where a Hornet's were, giving him the impression of being "four-eyed".

"Bespectacled"—other words, wearing eye glasses as artists often depicted humans. Humans were mythical creatures made up by

talented storytellers, and artists sometimes depicted them wearing strange magnifying pieces of glass held by frames on their faces where their

"eyes" were. This particular car seemed to have on those curious accessories on his eyes. It was also one of the oddities about him that made

him unusually handsome. This was no added feature he had built on him; nothing about him was an add-on . He was born like this from front to

back, as he matured. His engine was the fastest in the racing world no doubt gotten from maternal sources with the added addition of high

endurance from the paternal side. His engine and strength was not altered, it was natural. He sat on rear wheels that almost vanished beneath

him as his back was much lower than his front part. His grill was not nearly as pronounced as his old man's was but clearly indicated that he had

some kind of Hornet-like influence in him. He had dark enclaves around his grill sides near his mouth which suspiciously bore resemblance to those

of a Ferrari or even a Lambourghini and much of his shape was like that of a sportscar—low to the ground. And he inherited her spoiler only his

was doubled. "Mother traits" he knew. He did, however have the slit down his windshield pane like his father, another trait he obviously took on.

He heard his father, Doc, pull up beside him. They both looked at the crypts in front of them. This mausoleum was built in the mid 2000s

specifically for the Hudson family. So far the remnants of 3 occupants shared it. Two were actually interred here, a third had been melted down at

her request in life, most of her she wanted redistributed as spare metal parts, what parts of her were unaffected by her disease.

Because of her generosity there were vehicles driving around today with some of _her_ inside them, or outside them. And she was a truck, a Toyota

small bed, very sweet soul in life. As she wanted, a small portion of her was also molten down into a small 6X6 inch cube to be interred here next

to her sister-in-law and niece. It sat in a glass window encased in a little bronze box-shaped urn with her name and birthdate, and date of death

on it. In Times New Roman it read the following: "Diana Hudson. Sunrise: March 4 2009 Sunset: March 5 2039." That was the part that really

sucked, his sister died a day after her birthday. She was dying the day he _raced_. The crypt next to the encased urn read: "Paris Hudson, Sunrise: 

February 25 2028 Sunset: August 6 2038. _Go to sleep __now my blessed little angel_." Not even a year old she was. The size of the crypt said it all. And

right next to it, a much larger one. Jane Hudson. Sunrise: April 16, 2012 Sunset: August 6 2038. Same death date as the smaller crypt's. These

two died together. The blue race car cracked a slight smile. Guido had come along, bearing the shining Piston Cup trophy the racer had won not

long ago. The Dinoco racer, Monarch, smiled down at him. "Thanks for coming Guido." Guido softly said something in Italian but Monarch knew he

was saying something along the lines of "No problem at all." Or something of the sort. It still amazed everyone how the little forklift couldn't speak

a word of English, but he understood English perfectly. "Hey Pops." Monarch said to his father. "Hey kid. You're mother's on her way. She's talking

to one of the groundskeepers. "You know how women are. They always gotta stop and talk, talk, talk. Yap. Yap. Yap." Doc told him forcing the

race car to break into a laugh. Prince didn't really talk that much, but still, like most ladies, she got in her "girl moments" where she just got into a

conversation with another female and more or less forgot Doc was even there. Just as he said that, Monarch started laughing even harder. Doc

couldn't figure out why what he said would be _that _laughable. What he said wasn't THAT funny...was it? Monarch had seen his mother right next to

Doc, who wasn't even aware of her presence. As she always did, she was able to pull up with a dead silence. She also caught the end of what

her husband had said. Doc looked chagrined. "But in a GOOD way." he was quick to add playfully. She threw him a stern stare. "I heard that." she

told him. All four faces looked serious now as all eyes reverted back to the crypts. Doc and Prince huddled together, sad eyed as they observed

the tombs of their daughter, granddaughter and daughter- in-law. This was a bittersweet moment for all of them.

As the four stood together, Monarch began to quietly reminisce on the events that led up to this moment of him deciding to leave his Piston Cup

here at this vault.


	2. Infancy to Age Seventeen

**NOTE: I made some changes to the first chapter because I'm bringing Chick Hicks in (he has a good role. I liked Chick)**

**This chapter has been changed. Monarch is supposed to be FIFTEEN when he gets caught returning from the track, not ten. Sorry. Ten is way too young for Doc to be hollering at him like that. Doc Hudson is a very mad and very terrified father, you parents out there know the situation. Scared because he didn't know where his son was.**

***ITALIC AND BOLD * INDICATE MONARCH (OR OTHERS) HAVING A FLASHBACK.**

Doc held Prince close to him. "It's okay Mom." Monarch pushed up against her other side. Doc looked at his daughter's urn, happier times

returning.

_***Doc's Flashback**_

_Age 11 months._

_Ramone and Michael studied the infant carefully. Michael and the 2 other doctors outside Radiator Springs were right, as was the body artist craftsman. __All four had confirmed to the couple_

_ that Monarch indeed was what he was—a hybrid cross between Doc and Prince. The Hornet and Lambourghini never __doubted the expertise of Michael or Ramone. In fact, Michael_

_ recommended that Doc and Prince get the 2nd opinion of another doctor, just to confirm HIM __because even he wasn't sure if he was looking at Monarch correctly. They didn't want to do it but_

_ took Michael's recommendation and took Monarch to __not one, but two outside doctors who both confirmed what Michael believed. Monarch indeed was a hybrid mix. His tiny frame was turning_

_ into something __none of them had seen before, as hybrids were quite rare results. Vehicles usually developed into one specific type of car or truck. Van, or whatever __"model" they were going to_

_ be. Uncommon it was for a vehicle to develop into what looked almost like a sci-fi character of some type of futuristic car. __Ramone knew it the moment he was Monarch. He had been painting_

_ and making car frames long enough to know. And technology these days could even __allow a body artist to scan a baby's frame body using photography, input the image into a computer which_

_ would then create an exact replica of what the __child would look like before he even got his first fitting! Monarch was not going to be as tall as Doc was or as "flat" like Prince, but very low than_

_ most __cars were, and he looked a lot more like Doc. There was no doubt who's kid he was. He bore a crevice down the center of his windshield like Doc, __he even had a dull stare like Doc. His_

_ front was a lot like Doc's. His chrome mouth was not nearly as thick, but thin. But still in the same style. Where his headlights were __similar to a Hornet's but not quite. They sat a little higher_

_ up almost to the sides of his eyes but wouldn't hamper his vision. His back end swooped down __to where his wheels, unlike Doc's totally were hidden by his uniframe. But he had deep_

_ indentations on either side of his mouth like a Lambourghini's. Or __a Ferrari's. His little butt end was built like a sports car's also; very aerodynamic like his mother. And he took on another_

_ feature from Prince; Monarch's __doors opened upwards into wings, just like hers. Between the two took after the father much more than Mom but it was evident he had some "sporty"_

_like qualities to him. One other curious addition was that he had another dark indention just below his bottom lip, almost like a metallic goatee._

_The couple had chosen to have him painted white. The older he got, they would let him decide what color he wanted for himself but for __now, white was nice. He was absolutely adorable. So_

_ this was how his son was going to look for the rest of his life. Doc was still stupefied. Prince was __adoring the baby's look. Monarch was sitting there, still perturbed by the strange new white_

_ metal covering that had been put on him. He discovered __the strange round black things on his rims that were covering up his appendages. Miniature white walls like Daddy. He didn't know_

_ what to make of this __new invasion of his body. He tried hobbling his first tentative rolls on his tires. Around 10 or 11 months when infants started trying to crawl on their bare __rims was the_

_ time they were brought in for their first fittings. __Gaining confidence he babbled in his baby talk as he wobbled shakily towards Prince. She held up a tire to catch him and he let out a squeal,_

_ then laughed __excitedly. "Yep. He's definitely yours Doc. Looks almost just like you." Ramone told him. Doc was beside himself with looking Monarch over. Prince proudly __kissed the soon-to-be_

_ toddler. Yes, her baby was beautiful. "We made one good-looking kid Prince. I don't mean to brag but, we made one hell of a good- __looking kid." Doc told his wife. "Of course we did. There are_

_ no 'ugly' cars in this world." Prince told him._

_***Flashback:**_

_Seventeen years later:_

_Monarch stormed around Willy's Butte with some friends from his school. Today was Saturday and his favorite hobby was going up onto the cliff side— __literally—just as his sire used to do. He_

_ knew his dad was a famous racer but that wasn't what attracted him to the sport. He was a natural born racer, __he loved it. He already decided at a young age that he wanted to be a_

_ professional stock car racer like "Pops", his nick name for Doc Hudson, even though __his father and Lightning both told him that if he wanted to make it on his own, it would be a rough road._

_ Either one of them could pull strings to get __Monarch into the racing world, but Monarch was determined to make it ON HIS OWN, as a racer without the help of either of them. He did not want_

_Lightning or his father "hooking him up" because of their connections. He wanted to do this on his own, to show he could do it. He wanted to compete fair __and square like everyone else. That_

_ would still be years off. The youngest age anyone could race in a professional circuit was seventeen and that was __ONLY with the consent of BOTH parents. Doc would be for it but Monarch_

_ knew his mother would have a major issue with it. Racing was a dangerous __sport, it scared her to death to see her son roaring around the track like he did. It drove Monarch crazy at times;_

_ she was too overprotective he felt. Many __a time Monarch came home banged up and scratched because of his careless driving on the dirt track or the Strip track, superficial scrapes really but to_

_Prince it was a big deal. The boy couldn't under stand that she was just being a MOTHER. Mothers worried like this. And on more than one occasion, __Monarch had a very serious mishap that_

_ was bad enough to send him to a hospital, races gone amuck that even had his old man on edge. Typical horse __playing gone wrong. He was racing around the butte and judged wrong , went_

_ off the edge and flipped several times. It landed him in the hospital for a __week. His mother babying him every few minutes. It drove him insane._

_When he was fifteen he snuck out of the house in the middle of the night to go race at the Strip on a school night. The Strip was closed at that time but __Monarch was itching to give it a try._

_ His parents warned him about the Strip being off limits until he got older but he didn't listen. So when he thought __Dad was asleep he slipped out quietly and headed for the Strip. Drag_ _race at_

_ that. Starting at ten years old he was secretly drag racing. Now at fifteen, he woefully __thought because his father was so old he wouldn't really be up at that time of night and his mother_

_ supposedly was having a ladies sleepover with Tia. __She wasn't even home. His mother had forgotten something and, like mothers did went to check on her sleeping prince to discover he_

_ wasn't in his room._

**_2:20 A.M. IN THE MORNING_**

_Monarch came creeping back through his window thinking he was home free. He switched on the light guess who he saw. His parents sitting in __the corner of his room, their eyes already_

_ adjusted to the darkness. The light flooded the room and their pupils rapidly constricting from the sudden __influx of light yet neither flinched from it. They were far too angry to cringe from the_

_ light; Monarch on the other hand was scared shitless. He had been __busted big time. Dad was especially angry. "I told you don't go to the Strip. What THE HELL are you doing sneaking out this_

_ late at night at two-thirty? You __think I'm too old to deal with you?" It was the first time Prince had ever heard her husband curse in anger. Ever. It shocked even her. "D-d—DAD?"_

_Monarch was wide- eyed. The Hornet was righteously infuriated; Monarch had never seen his father this angry. Up for hours wondering what happened __to his son after he and half the town_

_ drove in a panic hunting for him. Prince grounded him for a month because of it. Doc took his discipline a step further; he __made his son wear a boot for an entire month—in public. As judge he_

_ could do it. Doc put a boot on Monarch and the fifteen-year-old kid had to wear it __every where, even to school. He even slept with it on. Some thought it was bit much but not Doc because he_

_ believed in old-style justice. Doc was a judge who was notorious for __locking noisy boom cars in the impound who flaunted their bass at annoying levels for days. And forced them to listen to_

_ Enya **all** day and night. This was a judge who made vehicles __who were caught shoplifting cruise in front of the stores they lifted from wearing "I stole from this store" placards as a form of_

_ public embarrassment. He imposed chain gangs to sweep __Radiator Springs's street in their black/white striped paint jobs and pink hubcaps. Doc had gained a reputation as a no-nonsense judge_

_ far beyond the little town he oversaw. He __played no favorites, not even with his own son. He sought to make Monarch's life such hell that the kid would never repeat the same mistake. Sure_

_ enough, Monarch never disobeyed __his dad again. He kept his little tail_ _out of the Strip after that._

_The teenager finished his lap, his once pure white color almost covered in mud and dirt. He was old enough to go to the Strip now at 17 his parents didn't __mind. He decided to head there and_

_ practice some drag racing stunts. His father had a long talk with his mother. Reluctantly, Prince accepted that __Monarch wanted to race as a career and she understood. She had to let go of_

_ him; he was growing up and he had too much of his father in him. If racing __made him happy she accepted it. And support it. With their written blessing, Monarch began making the transition_

_ into a race car. He would have to begin __at the amateur level, of course. Any time a car chose stock car racing as a career, he had to get his actual headlights removed and replaced with false_

_decals. Any wreck or collision could cause the glass in one's headlights to enter the interior and make for un-healing injuries for false headlights were the __norm. Monarch's real headlights were_

_ taken out and replaces with illusion headlight stickers where his real ones would have been. The only other __modification allowed in racing was removal of the horn. Race cars weren't allowed to_

_ have horns because they could use them to distract competitors on __the track. These were the ONLY two modifications allowed in race car driving, amateur or professional. Everything else on_

_ that car had to be natural. No __alterations to one's engine or over all frame. PERIOD. A racer couldn't have his engine revamped to become more powerful; it was prohibited. They had to_

_be naturally fast and high endurance. One thing Monarch was, was fast. And he had endurance._

**Present**:

Now a racer he grinned at the episode. Looking back on it it was funny now, that time when he was caught coming from the Strip. "What are you smiling at." Doc asked. "Oh, just the time

you and Mom caught me coming back from the Strip. At fifteen years old." Doc grinned. "You were a piece of work at that age." He told him. "Actually….I really started drag racing at ten."

Monarch admitted. "Just like I did." Doc added. Monarch briefly grinned then stared sadly at Prince. She smiled weakly at him, wiping a tear. "Mom, she's in a better place now, they

all are." "I know, I know. It's just…bittersweet." Prince spoke softly barely above a whisper.


	3. The Ugly Start of a Lasting Friendship

**I don't own Cars. Pixar and Disney do. I just own Prince, Monarch and Icky Blazer, and any other future made up ones I may bring in. **

**Reading enjoyment only.**

****This is how Monarch "met" Icky Blazer who would become a dear friend of his. A friend who would become like his brother and would grieve like a brother. Please let me know what you think.**

*****I promised a reader of mine to tone it down a bit although there will likely be some language in future chapters. Thanks for the advice!**

**NOTE: _BOLD AND ITALLICS_ PRECEDED AND FOLLOWED BY AN ASTERISK (*) SUGGEST FLASH BACK. **

**Now, enjoy.**

Doc cradled his wife close with a tire almost over her top as far out as he could reach it. After all these years Prince still didn't talk much and at

times even seemed to still be somewhat "intimidated" by him. She didn't have to talk much because he long ago knew how to almost read her

thoughts. So much heartache had taken place in such a short amount of time. He tried for the moment to reflect back on a somewhat happier

time of his son encountering who would become one of his closest friends, even though the initial meeting itself was jarred by rudeness on

Monarch's part, followed by an outrageous display of poor sportsmanship at the track that left Doc confused, hurt, and angry. Very disappointed

in his son, eventually understanding perhaps why he did what he did, but by no means approving of it. What Monarch did that day at the

Nevada 500 likewise left his mother stunned and upset because a piec e of her past came back to life over that incident. In the end, amends

were made and a lasting friendship was born from it, one that too, ended tragically for this new friend of Monarch's. Now that Doc thought of it,

it was even a bit amusing the way the other race car went after Monarch, after what Monarch did on the track, Doc couldn't blame him. No, it

was downright laughable now, although at the time it was anything but.

_***Flashback:**_

Monarch began his amateur racing at age 17. He still went to school, about to start college. He was determined to pursue a degree and try to

race as a career. He competed at all local and state levels across Arizona, representing his university and quickly caught the eyes of the

professional circuit. The kid was good. By the time he was 21 he had a shelf full of trophies placing in ranks from 1st to 3rd, and he even kept all

articles on him in which he came in very last. Monarch didn't even place in the top 10 in many of his races. There was a reason for it because he

had two major disadvantages: 1) because of how his rear tires were completely covered by his body frame, this became a problem for his pit

crew when his tires needed changing. Racing regulation did not allow cars to alter their basic shapes to "accommodate" a racing lifestyle; they

entered as is, and had to work at being good. The only exception was getting rid of headlights and horns. That was it. Everything else stayed

the same and if that car had a build different from a "normal" racer, they had to deal with it as best they could. Since the mid 30s when racing

began, the rules were the same for everybody and anyone entering a racer's lifestyle understood this, Monarch included . Because of how he

was shaped in the back it took longer than usually to change out all four of his tires because he had to raise up for his forklifts to get their arms

under him to lift him up. He then had to stretch his back axles out to expose his rims to them and this added many more seconds, sometimes

minutes to getting his new ones on in the back. In racing seconds or minutes meant the difference between rank placement and beating the

pace car out. Minutes could put a car so far behind that it was impossible to catch up once getting back in line. Monarch's team was fast, his front

wheels were a piece of cake, but being as it was, they and Monarch preferred ensuring his back tires were on properly over getting him back

out into his former position. The last thing any one needed was him screeching back onto the track with a poorly bolted back tire in place, only to

have it come off in the second half of the race. His second disadvantage was 2) he didn't handle turns well. His interesting physique forced him

to slow down more than other cars on a turn and, in just a few seconds he would end up behind everyone else. Even though he had perfected

the 'right-turn-to-go-left' powerslide his father and Lightning taught him he still couldn't go as fast as the other cars turning because he would

flip. He had already flipped twice in as many races, completely freaking his mother out. He was only mildy injured, and was able to drive away

from both. In the last one he flipped over once and landed on his hood. And stayed like that. He had no choice but to slow down as he

approached a turn, once again thanks to his design.

But Monarch also had advantages. BIG ones. Currently he was the fastest known car in racing and he had Mom's side to thank for it. He almost

went up to 200 going straight when most cars generally didn't go over 160 or so. And not only was he fast but he had the endurance of a true

racer also. He could maintain such speeds for ever it seemed, without becoming exhausted. Parental wonder again played here; he had Pops to

thank for that. All racers had endurance, they had to. But none of them had endurance AND could race like a Lambourghini. Once Monarch got

ahead, assuming he didn't foul up on a turn or take forever in the pit, there was no way for any one to catch up him. End of story. His unique

abilities coupled with his heart-warming personality made him a quick favorite in the eyes of many race enthusiasts. So it was no shock when he

quickly turned up in the professional world by the time he was 22. He had no fancy nickname or anything. He simply went by his regular name of

Monarch Hudson. He had a unique enough first name. Some did resort to calling him "The Hornet's Kid". And everyone knew who his father was.

He knew he would probably never live up to his father's legacy or even never get out of Dad's shadow as "The Hornet's Son" and he was fine

with that. He was proud to be The Fabulous Hudson Hornet's brat. To those closest to him he made no secret that he was his father's biggest

fan. To many of the older followers of the sport he did remind them of The Fabulous Hudson Hornet: humble, ordinary, not one to flaunt his fame,

courteous and racing for the fans. Doc was very grateful that his son didn't come off as an egotistcal, god-of-the-cars punk like many

transformed into. He and Prince had taught Monarch to always treat others as he would treat himself.

That was fine and dandy until the Nevada 500, which was a step below the Piston Cup. This was one of the big national races, the one that

determined who would go to the Piston Cup next year. A big sponsor of the 500 none other than Dinoco who was looking for a new face. There

were several contenders , one was Monarch. He truly wasn't pursuing a Dinoco sponsorship because he was quite happy with his place of

representing Radiator Springs. If he got it, he'd be happy of course but he was excited about just being in the 500. This was a top gun race like

the Piston was. He had finally made it into the big circuit. There was another competitor there from Las Vegas Icky Blazer, an ASA Late Model

racer. He was really good too, one who could give Monarch and a few others a run for their money.

It all started when Monarch pulled up to another sponsor tent and overheard some forklifts talking about Icky Blazer. It was completely by

accident that he found out what he found out; he wasn't trying to eavesdrop. He just happened to roll by and couldn't help but hear the

conversation as they were within sideview shot:

_"Icky Blazer from Nevada. That guy is. He's damn good too. His father owns a sling of hotels all over Las Vegas, one of them is the Mirage hotel. He's owned the Mirage since the early 2000s He's one of the richest guys in America now"._

Monarch stopped. He had heard why his mother left Las Vegas in the first place, that she worked as a show girl, and she worked at the Mirage.

And that the establishment's new owner gave her all sorts of hell because she wouldn't do as he wished.

_AND THAT HIS NAME WAS "SOMETHING" _**_BLAZER_.**

That meant that this racer was somehow related to related to that owner, maybe even his…

_Son_.

An unknown level of anger started to boil up in Monarch. He didn't want to jump the gun but he had heard enough. He didn't want to be right,

he wanted this gut instinct to be wrong. So he left returning to his pit where everyone else was when a VIP vehicle rolled up to strike up a

conversation. And guess who came with him? "Hi everybody. Ready for the race?" The acura asked politely. Everyone responded merrily but

Monarch, who stood, scowling at the ASA Late Model racer. Others, even the targeted car, had yet to catch on to him. And it was a good thing

that Prince was no where in sight. She was out somewhere on the track taking in the the scenery. Monarch's frown slowly melted into a softer

but still stand-offish gaze. "Oh, I'm very excited. I'm sure my son is. I can never stop being so proud of him." Doc beamed. "You have a right to

be Sir. He's a good racer." The Late Model looked at Monarch who by now didn't look as severe as he did, but still apparently didn't catch on to

the animosity in the hybrid's face. He looked back at Doc and Lightning. "I wanna introduce you all to this young fellow, Monarch's he's actually

your age. This is Icky Blazer. His dad owns a lot of motels up and down the West Coast, Nevada and every where else. But he didn't get here

on his dad's back, he worked his way up the chain, just like you son." The acura told Monarch. "Icky, this is Monarch." When Monarch gave not

even so much as a grunt but proceeded to look Icky up and down like he had rust building on him the silence was deafening. Icky for his part

was a bit unnerved because Monarch was eyeing him up as if he had committed some atrocious act on him in the past. He had never met

Monarch before and was beginning to second-guess all of the good things he had heard about Monarch. Did he remind Monarch of someone who

screwed him wrong? Doc was shocked. He inconspicuously nudged his son in an attempt to snap him out of his rude gaze and get him to

introduce himself but Monarch didn't budge. Put on the spot of embarrassment at having his wheel shake denied, Icky looked down at the

outstretched tire he had held out for Monarch to take before setting it back down. "Uu, nice to meet you." was all he could say in this awkward

moment. "Charmed I'm sure. Forgive me if I don't shake tires." Monarch responded coldly. His sentence was heavy with sarchasm. "Monarch;

what has gotten into you???" Doc whispered inconspicuously to him. "Uu, well you all have a good day. Good luck on the race kid." The acura

told Monarch. "Thank you sir." Monarch told him sincerely, although his callous stare never left Icky. Icky backed away confused, somewhat hurt

by the cold response he had gotten and perplexed. He flashed a brief smile at Monarch. "Good luck on the race." He told Monarch as he backed

away and then returned to his pit on the other side of the track. Doc glared at his son. "That was rather rude of you. What was that all about?

Did he do something to you or somethin' ?" he asked. "Another time Pops. I don't really want to talk about it at the moment. I have to get ready

for the race."

Monarch retorted lamely, rather ashamed that he had done it in front of his father. Doc watched him drive off, totally mystified by his son's

sudden behavior. He decided to shrug it off for the time being and go get Prince.

**Yeah, our sweet Monarch's being a temporary prick (I'm so evil).**

**Next chapter (Monday), MAY BE tomorrow depending on how I feel (I'm sick), some real fireworks are gonna erupt between Monarch and Icky in the race.**


	4. The REAL Fight Club

**Warning: there is some cursing here.**

Cars and their crews selected their pits and the order they would start in based on their qualifying finishes in past races of that season. Monarch had a third spot, not a bad on at all. He noticed

that the Late Model had a secondary place. But that was not what had him so ired. It was the fact that he knew this car was related to the worm that ruined his mother's dancing career. He

just knew it. He watched Icky take his place out in the track after one last inspection by his pit crew. "Icky". What kind of name was "Icky"? They should have just named him "Yuck". Or

better yet, "Shit". He had already decided he didn't like this dude even though he barely knew him. If it turned out that he was related to the troglodyte responsible for giving his mother grief

in her past then he had no place in Monarch's world. He sighed and looked away as he weaved from side to side in his line with the other cars. He focused on the pace car leading the way, her

cruising speed at the required five miles per hour. She was oblivious of the secret admirer just yards from her; to her he was just another racer. Females seldom took part in any professional

racing; while there were as many female fans of racing as there were males, participation-wise most simply didn't have a desire to participate. By no means were they forbidden; they were

just uncommon. There had been two or three female racers in the past, one who won a Piston Cup even in the 70s. Like every racer before him, he knew the history of the sport. Monarch

watched as the pace car, a female named Jane take her place in front of the several dozen race cars to lead them into the one lap around the track before the race started. She was quite cute

he noticed. The official above brandished his green flag and began waving it, the signal to take off. In no time Monarch had easily bypassed both Icky and the lead car and was several feet

ahead of them. He was not thinking of Icky at the moment but of the dreaded first turn coming up.

He always had an issue with these blasted turns. He had to raise his rear up so that his back wheels could turn properly unhampered by his frame but it slowed him down, if only for a few

seconds. But those few seconds was all other cars needed to catch up to him. And really it made him look corny rising up a foot or so as he executed a turn but he didn't care. It was the

only way he could turn. Turning as he rested with his body in its normal position in the back meant that his rear wheels would not have enough room to turn properly. While it might look cool

if he did, it he wanted to win he had to opt for the other method. Besides, the fans always liked it. He succeeded with the first turn and the crowd cheered not just him but all the competitors.

Doc and Prince watched from the stands with young Diana, their sixteen-year-old daughter. The tan-colored little Nissan pick-up truck always got a thrill in watching her big brother race. And

today she was well enough to join her parents in supporting "Bro's race".

Monarch shot ahead approaching turn 2. He veered slightly to the left in front of Icky, who thought for sure it had been executed on purpose to cut him off. That was hardly the case because

Monarch didn't even know at the time that the Late Model was even behind him. So when he veered to the left, the left end of his bumper slightly knicked the right front side of Icky's grill. In

racing this was the ultimate insult for a car to do this to another because it was a race car's way of saying "Eat my exhaust". When Monarch accidentally bumped Icky he himself was surprised

he had done it. He turned his eyes to the side ready to apologize. Before he could Icky started on him. "Watch your effen exhaust..!" He shouted over the roar of engines then gave a little

courtesy bump of his own. "_PUNK_!" he added in. On the word "punk" he emphasized it with a harsh whack with his front wheel upside Monarch's grill. It was more like an outright slap. He

then shot off ahead. None of the officials saw what Icky had done, which surprised the announcers because they had a clear view of everything.

_"Whoa, did he just smack Monarch there? Did you see that?"_

_"I'm a bit surprised no body caught that; because it looked to me like some words were exchanged_

_there didn't it? I wonder if Monarch provoked him or if… I don't know if that was for real, if_

_Icky Blazer did THAT on purpose." One announcer stated. "Well, we saw where Monarch pinged him_

_but that looked to be an accident. It didn't look like he did it on purpose, but, I don't know Rick._

_Obviously Icky took offense to it…and there were reports earlier that these two met before the race_

_and didn't really take a liking to each other._

_That meeting, we've heard, didn't go too well. Which is very unfortunate because both of these racers_

_are remarkable guys_."

Monarch wasn't about to let this slide. He really didn't mean to bump Icky but since Icky slapped him it was on. The white racer snapped. Screw the rules of the game,

screw sportsmanship, fuck the Nevada 500. This motherfucker was going to have to pay. His mind set on revenge, the enraged hybrid set Icky in his field of vision and then sped up.

The unsuspecting car never saw, let alone knew what hit him. With a huge thrust of his engine, Monarch surged forward until his front grill was practically under the backside of an

unsuspecting Icky. Veering off course Monarch took the car with him. He plowed the terrified Late Model car off the track and almost nose-first into the soft peat grass. The entire stadium

gasped in shock as Monarch's back tires kicked up acrid smoke, his rubber screaming against the asphalt of the track. The rest of him was in the grass, his front driving against

Icky's bumper. To everyone in the stadium including Doc and Prince, it looked like Monarch just went off the deep end for no reason at all and, out of the blue, decided to shove another rival

off the track. Few saw the bump-and-slap session that had occurred seconds earlier.

_"OH NO! LOOK AT THIS! MONARCH HUDSON HAS PUSHED ICKY BLAZER OFF THE TRACK AND HE'S TRYING TO PILE DRIVE HIM INTO THE GROUND!_

_YEAAAAAAAAH, BABY! MONARCH IS PUSHING HIM OFF THE TRACK COMPLETELY AND LOOK AT HIS WHEELS! THE SMOKE! I DON'T_

_BELIEVE THIS! THAT'S A COUPLE OF SUSPENSIONS! YEAH BABY! LOOK AT THE SMOKE!"_

The whole stadium was now in a pandomonium. No matter how much these two were liked or respected, it was _always_ fun to see a good old-fashioned fight. It was natural for spectators to

get off on an all-out brawl. The hybrid was releasing so much energy that he was forcing Icky's face to dig a trench into the soft earth. It only terrified Icky because initially he had no idea

what had just happened to him. His first thought was that a car lost control and rammed into him from behind, about to send him into a wild roll over. When he found himself being bulldozed

across the field instead is when he turned, to see Monarch driving him into the dirt. Terror quickly transformed into all-out fury, he began resisting. And, unlike Monarch, Icky possessed four-

wheel power. All four of his tires flung peat up they reverse-ground into the soil, matching Monarch's strength. It was a strange spectacle to see; him on the in field with with his face buried

into the dirt and all four tires spinning, flailing grass everywhere. Monarch right up on him, smoke billowing from his back tires with an enraged sneer on his face as he vyied to keep his

opponent there. Icky kicked him hard enough in the face to stun him. As Monarch staggered back, Icky spun around livid. Not thinking or caring about the consequences he dove straight for

Monarch and landed right on top of him. "You SON-OF-A-BITCH!"

He charged full speed at Monarch, leapt into the air when he was a few feet away. As he came down his tire went through Monarch's side window, totally smashing it.

_"ICKY BLAZER KICKS OUT ONE OF MONARCH'S SIDE WINDOWS! OH-HO-HO THIS IS CRAZY! WE GOT A FULL-BLOWN FIGHT HERE FOLKS!"_

The hybrid yelled from the pain. The gravity-defying leap caused Icky to lose his balance because he came colliding down on Monarch's top before landing in an undiginified heap at his side. As

he kicked to right himself up Monarch bounced on him almost ripping off a piece of his back fender. Swear words and insults were hurled back and fourth as he and Icky rolled around in the

grass fighting. Neither seemed to have a clear upper hand. The commentators were going crazy as officials and security vehicles alike were racing to the brawl. "Monarch STOP IT! COME ON,

STOP!" Lightning McQueen was the first to get to his rookie student and used his body to keep an incensed Monarch at bay. Blinded by rage, Icky was being held by his own team. "He did that

shit on purpose!. " he complained angrily to his crew chief. Monarch gave no response but only a cold glare. By now Doc and Prince were heading out to him, both in complete shock at their

son's behavior. What on earth had brought this on? "MONARCH! Calm down! COME ON KID—STOP IT!" Doc ordered when Monarch went for Icky again. This time Monarch obeyed but never

took his eyes off the Late Model. "What is this all about? " Doc demmanded an answer. Whatever was going on between his son and Icky, he was going to get to the bottom of it. "Your dad

owns the Mirage right?" Monarch screamed at Icky. Icky was puzzled. What did this angst going on between them just now have to do with his dad owning the Mirage? He had had no contact

with his father for personal reasons. "RIGHT? The hotel my MOTHER used to work at; the same bastard that tried to rape my mother and then made her life a living nightmare because she

wouldn't fuck him? He destroyed her career in Vegas because of that!" Monarch screamed again at Icky. Prince and Doc Hudson stared at him, stunned. Then they looked at Icky, who too

appeared silenced.

_**Icky's flashback:**_

He now remembered, when he was small, his father always chasing after some pretty usually black Lambourghini at one of his hotels. Being that she was a showgirl, she often painted herself

up in an array of gorgeous color schemes complete with rhinestones. That lambourghini, like all show cars had the luxury of changing her paint jobs on a whim, as many as three times

a week, to include expensive gems in her elaborate body regalia. That day the Lambourghini named Prince was painted a soft sand color with a snow-white top that gave her a platinum blond

look. Exquisite "curls" of the same color brandished her sides with a huge peacock headress, feathers on her rear. Deep red defined her chiseled lips and solid diamond rims covered her

tires. Tires that were white. Like her fellow showgirls that lambourghini was drop dead gorgeous, but she always seemed disgusted by the Boss's presence. Icky could remember seeing her

literally choking on her hatred of his sire as she still tried to remain polite to him. Icky would only return her sincere introduction with a malicious stare. In his small mind, it was all _her_ fault.

Dad completely brushed off HIS mother. He treated his mother like trash because of it and Icky blamed "that Lambourghini" for it when he was young, for ruining his parent's marrige. Dad

used to compare his mother, to that "sexy ass lam car". The others now noticed Icky and Prince stood, staring at each other, speechless. "Oh, my god." Was all the quiet Prince could mutter.

She remembered this kid. He would come around to the Mirage when she rehearsed onstage, and had to hear her boss tell Icky as a child "That's the one that should have been your mother."

She shook her head and turned to leave. "Prince? PRINCE!" Doc called for her. He looked at his son, then Icky. He shook his head. "I'm disappointed in you right now." He told Monarch who

seemed to not notice his father at all. Doc looked at Icky. "I'm so sorry." He told Icky before leaving to get Prince. Icky looked at Monarch, shaking his head. "Is this what our earlier

acquaintance was about? Me being the son of the one who tried to get at YOUR mother? I can't help the way my father was; I don't even deal with my father now because of how he treated

MY mother. He was always comparing her to YOUR mother, and treating my own mom, his wife, like shit. Come home and beat up on her _**for not being your mom!**_. _**They broke up**_

_**because of that!**_" Icky panted out in an angry roar."And my mother is to blame for that? She didn't ask to be the object of your father's twisted affections. She didn't become between your

parents' marriage; your father ruined his relationship with your mother. " "And I'M to blame for how my dad treated your mom, right?" Icky turned the question around. It struck Monarch.

For the first time he realized exactly what had set him off and just how wrong he was. This racer couldn't help who his father was, just as Prince couldn't help the predicament she had been

put in. Monarch hadn't thought about any of it and now he suddenly was flooded with guilt. And he had just poured more sugar into the tank by bringing it all up in front of Mom. To top it off

he had dropped the f-bomb in front of his mother. He really thought there were just guys around. He shook his head. He couldn't say sorry just yet. He had to go find his mother.


	5. Step Up To The Plate

Doc located Prince out in the trailer lot where Monarch's trailer was parked. "Are you alright?" he questioned. "I am my love." she told him in her

ever-so-quiet voice. After all these years she still spoke so softly barely above a whisper, and that was when she spoke at all. She was a female

version of Red only that, unlike Red, she never burst into tears at everything. Doc was unconvinced. She looked at him with large woeful eyes.

"I am, I'm just a little stunned that's all. Dismayed I suppose is a better term. After all this time I never expected my past to come back to haunt

me. I suppose I'm alot like you after all, the way it was when Lightning McQueen first arrived to Radiator Springs, and then him learning of your

past. This is certainly one chapter I'd rather _not_ face." "But you have to, Prince. At some point you can't run from it forever. And that kid, Icky--

you gotta know how it must bother him to know all this now." "Oh, he's known for a long time I assure you. His father; the Boss," Prince

corrected herself. "He would bring him to the Mirage often when we rehearsed a show, and would make passes at me right in front of him. In

front of Icky. He was just six then, I remember like it was yesterday. I'm telling you this owner was so low-down he flirted with me in front of his

six year old son and tell _him_ "If you're gonna cheat on your wife kid this is the way to do it." in front of me, in front of everybody." She smiled

momentarily. "He introduced me to Icky once..it was akward for me. After he tells this little boy "She's way sexier than your mom." he tries to

introduce us. I tried to be nice you know? Icky was staring at me the way kids do. I politely introduce myself and the Boss isn't looking he tells

me "He's not gonna stop until you're his. He beats up on my mother for not being you." That was the day I decided I was going to quit and apply

elsewhere, till Boss got wind of it." Prince was disgused. All of this was news to Doc because she had never told him of it. Her ex-employer must

have really been bastardized to do something so low as to compare his son's mother to Prince. If he "educated" his son like this then what on

Earth did he treat Icky's mother like?

"I can't face him Doc. I can't." Prince told him. "He may not wanna face you either. Maybe he can't. It's not your fault Prince. NONE of this is your

fault. You can't help what happened.." "It's not his fault either, Hudson." Prince was adamant. "No it isn't." Doc wholly agreed with her. She had

mentioned it before he could. "It's not Icky's fault either, both of you guys were victims here. You both are going to have to sort this out. Look,

he's a racer, our son is a racer. The two of em are gonna be seeing a lot of each other in future races and if either of them is to have any sort of

future in racing they're gonna _have_ to get along, and I think that's gonna have to start with you and HIM--Icky I mean--facing each other. I'm

sure he suffered just like you did, and who knows what his mother went through with a car like him. How Monarch found out that Icky was this

owner's kid, I've no idea but it's out now and sooner or later you have to face this. Both of you. " "Yes…" Prince lowered her head. "When I left

Las Vegas I thought for sure I left that chapter of my book behind me. I guess I was wrong because a page of that chapter has followed me

here." She was referring to Icky. "You can't keep running all the time sweetheart. You ran from Vegas the first time when we met but this time I

think it may do you both good to meet each other for real, you know. Monarch included. And in case you haven't noticed, your 'page' didn't

exactly follow you; we're IN Las Vegas as we speak you know. You 'turned back' to that page if you know what I mean." Doc added. She looked

at him and sighed. Then she nodded.

Monarch and Icky were both still stewing from their earlier confrontation but now the realization of their altercation had started to set in. They

were both out of this race, they knew, and more than likely the Piston Cup this year as well. Most likely Monarch would receive the harshest

punishment because it looked like he started the whole thing unless they could see on tape where Icky slapped him. Or, if they went further

back, might see where Monarch crossed in front of him and hit Icky's face. But that was an accident. It really was. He watched from the officials'

booth as the other cars roared around the track. He saw Icky just feet away, talking to the officials and giving his recollection of the events that

led up to the fight. Earlier they had gotten Monarch's version of the story. At this point, he really didn't care about the penalty, he was loaded

with guilt for what he had done and it weighed heavily on his soul. Actually, today was NOT the first day he had seen Icky Blazer. While this was

the first time he had personally met the racer in person he had seen Icky on tv in the past. There was one interview Icky gave on a prestigious

talk show in which he discussed his childhood. In that interview just a few months ago, Icky remarked about his womanizing father who he was

estranged from, how he was constantly pursuing "a black Lambourghini that worked under him." The words stung Monarch then as he listened

to them. "That car, this Lambourghini, she was a beautiful thing, she was. I hated her. I mean, I felt she was coming in between my parents

marriage and that she was responsible for my father abusing my mother. That's how I felt, that this car was at fault for it all because of it, you

know?" That was the moment when Monarch knew this race car, a rookie like him, was kin to his mother's ex-employer. He became so bothered

by what he was watching that he turned the tv off, and completely **MISSED** where Icky continued his interview by stressing that as he got older

he understood that Prince was NOT the cause of his parent's marital strain, but that she too was a victim of his father's harassment, and that his

father was the cause of his mother's pain. Monarch didn't catch any of that because he flicked the tube off, already worked up. So when he

happed upon the fork lifts today discussing Icky Blazer, and then he SAW Icky Blazer, that interview flooded back into his mind. As did the anger.

And that's all he saw when Icky tried to greet him prior to the race. Icky had no idea that this car was the son of "that Lambourghini" he

slammed on national tv. Slammed only in terms of discussing how he felt about her as a child growing up but then made clear to the world that

she was not the one to blame for it. Monarch didn't know about that part because he didn't watch the full interview. Still even now, he still felt

like an ass for how he reacted when Icky tried to introduce himself. How was he supposed to know that Monarch Hudson was "that

Lambourghini's" kid?

It was starting to sink into to him how childishly he reacted about the whole thing, as well as the ramafications of his actions. He was really

hoping to get into the Cup this year. "Well, I really blew my chance racing this year." He told himself. "And it serves you right if you did." Came

the unmistakable gruff voice of his father. Monarch turned around as Doc pulled up with a stern look on his face. "Son, I don't know what

happened between the two of you out there on the track, or before you two even met today, but I know both of you are hurting behind this."

Monarch nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what came over me, I just let all the anger and what not pin up inside me. I saw him in an interview not

too long ago talking about Mom, how she came between his parents. Maybe there was more to it, but it doesn't matter. I don't know him, and

maybe I did jump the gun a bit. I know I let you down today, you and Mom both. I really didn't mean to bring that up in front of Mom. I just lost

control of myself." Monarch shamefully admitted. "Everybody has a button that can be pushed. Like I told your Mother, I think the two of you

need to talk this out. What's done is done. Just move forward from here." Doc told him before turning to leave. Monarch watched him go. For the

rest of the day, all everyone talked about was the fight. Not the car that won or came in 2nd or 3rd place. The Icky/Monarch brawl was the big

topic. Officials finally did get video of an angle of where Monarch clipped Icky's front in the beginning of the race, which they determined to be

accidental, but it was clear from Icky's expression that he assumed it to have been deliberate. They also came across a video from another angle

taken by a camera van covering the race that showed where Icky whacked Monarch upside the head. There was an even better recording; one

of the racers in front of the two had a tiny race cam on his bumper and got a superb close-up of Icky and Monarch. Even the words could be

heard. And then the slap. To make it worse this piece of film had already been bootlegged from the racer (whose pit crew was probably

responsible for it) in just a matter of hours and was down loaded onto the internet. And it was all over TV. It really was hilarious because Icky

raced up to Monarch's side, yelled at him to watch his exhaust and then at the word "punk", stretched out his front left tire and just WHAM!

Slammed it right into Monarch's head by his right eye and side view. And then took off but the look on Monarch's face was priceless. He was

racing along, mouth wide open in a shocked gape for several long seconds as if he was trying to understand what had just happened to him.

The officials viewing the tape had to concede that it was one of the funnier ones they had seen in a long while. They cracked some grins.

This bit as well as the full-blow peat-slinging, rubber-burning throwdown that occurred afterwards became an internet and news sensation.

Piston Cup Committee Officials always attended every race there was and they scrutinized every second of tape. Icky couldn't suppress a grin as

he saw the huge close-up of where he slapped Monarch with his tire. Even Monarch was starting to smile a little. He had to admit that looking at

it now, it really was funny how he got smacked, and his stupefied reaction was even funnier. One of the officials glanced up at the two racers,

who were quick to erase their smiles. Both were disqualified out of this race. It was no surprise to either, but Monarch decided to speak up. "All

that I ask of the National Race Car League, is that you don't give Icky Blazer a sentence as stiff as mine. The part where I clipped him as I

passed him, I did that on purpose." He was lying about the part of doing it on purpose. It was unintentional, but he didn't want Icky to be as

penalized like he was, so he lied. Icky was staring at him, stunned. "I clipped him deliberately because I had a bone to pick with him. It was

stupid and childish what I did, and when he slapped me I had that coming to me. I deserved it. I am willing to step up to the plate and take full

responsibility for bumping him as well as pushing him off the track. I accept whatever punishment is handed down. But I ask that Icky receive a

light sentence because I was the one who provoked him into hitting me. Which led to our confrontation on the in field." He was willing to take

the blame for both of them? Icky didn't know what to say. He looked at Monarch bewildered.


	6. Prodigal Son, Malicious Father

**Note: this chapt focuses mainly on the meeting between Prince and Icky. Enjoy. **

**Warning: There is languege.**

The officials held a closed-door meeting amongst themselves while Icky and Monarch sat it out. "You say you really struck me by accident yet you

agree to take the fall for me and not see me penalized. Tell me why." Icky broke the stifling stillness between them. He really wanted to know

because he was confused. Monarch instantly took a dislike to him when he introduced himself, and, in his opinion, flaunted his tail pipe to him

with a thump to his face, and then as if that wasn't enough, tried to force him to dig his grave in the in field. He had to admit Monarch had him

trapped good and looking back at the video was forced to guffaw at the scenario. He practically used Icky's face like a backhoe shovel. He had

to give it to Monarch; the hybrid car was strong. He guessed that whatever engine Monarch had was one-of-a-kind. Monarch had him pinned

until Icky's back tire connected to his face. He still wasn't sure how he did it. Pure luck, he supposed. "I had a change of heart." Monarch spoke

bluntly. "A change of heart." Icky snorted appreciatively. It still bothered him that Monarch was willing to take all of the responsibility however.

He too was willing to step up to the plate for his role in what happened. "I feel bad about what happened. It's not like me to lose control of

myself like that. I really did accidentally nick you when I crossed you. I didn't know you were that close behind me. " Monarch continued on. "It

didn't look that way to me. I thought you were screwing with me for no reason. I get pissed and I slap you. I'm sorry for that, I really am." Icky's

eyes shifted downwards. "That's what really set me off. It was just you, knowing who you were, who you're father was and all of that and how

hard you smacked me. THAT shit hurt. I just set you in my crosshairs after that." Monarch was looking the other way as he spoke. "Of course, I'll

never forget the look on your face after I slapped you like that." Icky blankly began grinning, and Monarch sniggered in agreement. He started to laugh

momentarily. "I'm sorry but that look on your face WAS a Kodak moment." Icky told him. Monarch just nodded. "Why don't we start over then.

Monarch Hudson. Pleased to meet you." Monarch reached out a tire to him. "Icky Blazer." The second man returned the wheel shake. Their

meeting adjourned, the officials entered the room, a bit perplexed to see the two offenders, who had been at each other's throats just hours

earlier making their peace. It was a good thing, but it would save neither from their decided punishment. "Well gentlemen, we'll make our

decision to the racing board in a matter of days." One of them said. "You two can go now." They watched the two cars leave together.

They wandered outside to see Prince standing there, looking very nervous. "Hi." Was all she could muster out. "Hey Mom." Monarch greeted her

as he always did, with a kiss to the side of her hood. "I..want , I need a moment alone, with….him." she eyed her son. Like Doc, Monarch had

come to accept that his mother still had trouble looking people directly in the eyes when she talked to them. She had come around a lot, but for

the most part, she was still shy and quiet Prince, who seldom uttered a whole sentence. She just wasn't the talking type. She smiled a lot

because she truly was happy with her life now, far more than she ever smiled before she came to Radiator Springs, but overall, her silent

demeanor changed little. Monarch smiled at Icky with hopeful assurance and gave the two cars their privacy. Icky could tell the Lambourghini

was having great trouble approaching what he knew the subject to be because of her posture. She would start as if preparing to speak and

then stop before any sound came out. She did this twice before she just closing her mouth altogether and sat in front of him, almost as if

pleading with her eyes for _him_ to start the conversation instead. He took her up on her visual offer. "I want you to know, that I have no ill

feelings for you, Mrs. Hudson. None whatsoever. Yeah, when I was a kid I can't lie to you maam, I hated your guts. At the time I believed you

were the cause for everything that went wrong between my parents. I was a kid; that's what kids think." He made a weak attempt at a possibly

inappropriate joke, followed up by an equally strained laugh. Her eyes seemed to brighten up a little. Icky turned serious again. "You were

everything that my father wanted. It was like the moment he saw you, nothing else mattered to him but you. Belittling Mom behind it. By the

time I was a teenager I began to see my father for what he really was. A low-down scandalous piece of junk scrap treating every body like dirt.

I watched how it destroyed my mother's self-confidence, how she was always trying to measure up to his version of beauty. After you quit and

left he went after other show girls. And a lot of them went for him; I mean he was rich, good looking, bought them things, few show girls turned

down his offer. I never knew as an adolescent growing up who he was gonna come home with that night; he was such a low-life he would bring

his whores into our house; into my mother's house ---with her there. Engage them in my mother's bedroom, in THEIR bedroom with mom on the

other side of the mansion in another room. Sometimes he would make Mom stay in a room right down the hall so she **could** hear it, 'hear how a

real beauty makes love to a man' he'd tell her that." Icky nodded to himself remembering, his eyes drifting slightly into a blank gaze. He snapped out

of it. "See, my mom was scared of him because he was really abusive with her. She couldn't just take me and leave because he threatened to

kill her if she did. " Prince couldn't believe what she was hearing. "The Boss" was way worse than she thought. Now she began to recall how on

occaisions his wife would come to the Mirage with a dark windshield tint over her eyes, much darker than Wingo's. So dark one couldn't see

her pupils, and she _always_ followed behind Mr. Boss Blazer, as if apprehensive or not wanting to get in his way. Prince suspected now that

Icky's mother was hiding what ever injuries he may have inflicted on her. Another time she came to the hotel with a suspicious dent in her side

and when questioned by one of the staff workers about it, only mentioned that she "fell down the ramp." It made sense now, it wasn't that

Mrs. Blazer didn't care about her husband actions with Prince as long as he spent money on her. _She was straight-up terrified of him_. _She was_

_trapped in a marriage she couldn't get out of_. "My mother wanted to take me and get the hell out but you see there's a complication with that.

You see, in Nevada, if you're married to some one for over 12 years, in a divorce your spouse automatically is entitled to half of everything you

have. Which means my mother would have gotten at least 900-hundred million dollars after taxes. Plus half of everything he owned in his multi-

billion dollar fortune. By law she's entitled to it even if she doesn't want it. And she DIDN'T want it. She didn't want not one red penny of his; she

just wanted out of the marriage—period. He'd rather have her dead than give her anything type of scene, you know? The older I got the more I

started to see him for what he was. And I hated it. I mean I knew by then YOU had nothing to do with it, I could remember seeing you as a small

child how much you cringed around my father. How much it bothered you to have him after you. I saw all of that as I grew up. As for the other

show girls he got with…I really don't care about them because none of them cared you know. They liked the way he 'knocked it' and he had the

money to blow on them. Let's face it most girls—and guys want to get with some body who's rich. "

"Meanwhile Mom is off to the side being treated like shit the whole time. My mother finally had it; so we plotted to leave him. He was supposed

to be out of town and he forgot something. He came in the door, saw us with our bags and my parents got into it. He started slapping her

around and everything. I was seventeen by then and that was the final straw for me. I was on his ass, I don't know how I got pulled off of him

because some of the neighbors heard it. I tried to kill his ass. I WOULD have killed him had it not been for the others stopping me. My father's

laying there where I left him, and he tells me 'If you walk out that door with her, you are no longer my son. I will disown you and you never will

see one dime of my money when I'm gone.' I told him fine. I don't want your f---." Icky stopped himself. He didn't feel right cursing in front of

someone's mother, even though that day he exploded with obscenities at his father in full view of his own mother. "Your money." Icky decided

to stick to a cleaner version in front of Prince. "And as far as I'm concerned, you never was a father to me. You was anything but. Mom is leaving

you. I told him. And the last thing I said to him was, I told him if he ever laid a rim on my mother ever again, if he ever came around her, or found

out where she lived, or threatened her life, I would kill him. He wouldn't have to worry about willing his billions to us or anybody else, because

he wouldn't be around long enough to decide that. If he ever touched or threatened her again, I would put an end to him. I meant it when I was

seventeen. I mean it now all these years later. And I still have no contact with my father. I don't know what he does now, nor do I care. He' s

doing well I'm sure. Is he sorry about what went down, I don't know. Has he disowned me? Probably. My mother was really scarred by

everything he did to her, she's very demoralized by it. But other than that, she's fine. She doesn't blame you either, she knew my dad better

than anybody. She saw you at the Mirage how disgusted you were at how he flirted with you, how you brushed him off. You were the first

person ever to tell him no. To reject him and according to her, that was a challenge to him. Prey refusing the hunter; it was like a game to him.

So many times Mom wanted to tell you how she admired you for standing up to him, how she wanted to tell you how lucky you were to

be what you were, and not be trapped in a violent marriage like she was. She couldn't leave the house without his permission so she could

never speak to you alone, and she was too scared to talk to you in front of him. " Icky looked Prince dead in the eyes. "You were miserable

working at the Mirage when Dad took over. My mother could tell. He was making your live hell; she knew. She said she could see it by how you

would look at her sometimes. Like you were begging her to step in and put her husband in check for hitting on you. Begging her for help. Only

she was like you. Helpless. He was willing to divorce her to be with you. I know his stalk-like behavior creeped you out, but when you have the

kind of money and power he has, who can stop you, you know. You leaving Vegas altogether probably saved your life. I doubt he'd come after

you now. He's long found another be his "main ho." He's dating some lotus or so I hear. I don't know. My mother was able to divorce him like

she wanted, so that works for me. She went in hiding to do it though, she was too scared to be in the open. To this day he doesn't know where

she lives. Mom won't come to my races because of that; she's still scared of him. She thinks he'll find out and show up and do something."

Prince absorbed everything that was said. And she really thought she had it bad. Icky's mother never got over this because she had severe

pscyhcological issues. Even though her ex-husband had moved on with his adulterous life, even remarried, Icky's mother was so tramatized by

her ordeal that she was phobic. She rarely left the house for fear that her ex-husband would be waiting for her. And she hadn't dated anyone

in nearly 20 years. This was unacceptable. There was really not much for Prince to say because Icky had said what she was feeling about the

uncomfortable state of being hounded in front of him and his mother. "Oh. Icky…come here." She softly told him as she rolled out to hug him.

Icky accepted the embrace. "Hey I'm sorry about all that's happened today. " Icky told her. "I am too. I want to thank you for your

understanding. And..do me a favor. Please tell your mother she can't stop living because of this. Tell her I think about her. And she is in my

prayers." Prince whispered to him. "Thanks maam."

The penalty was decided; Monarch would be suspended for the next two races. That included this years Piston Cup and next year's Nationals,

the first of several big league races leading up to the Piston. He would be allowed to resume racing in the big race following that. He was also

fined five grand for the fighting because officials determined, however mistakenly, that Monarch clipped him on purpose. Even though he didn't

he wasn't going to argue. He had already said it was deliberate. Icky was suspended for this year's Piston Cup as well and he received a $500

fine. He would race in the next National. With that settled Monarch figured he would his time off training on the Strip track. He felt vindicated

because if nothing else, a close friendship had formed out of his ugly altercation with Icky.

***Next chapter will go up this upcomming Wed. We have a family emergency. Take care till next time.**


	7. Big Dog Racers Now

**I have an icon made up of Monarch that I did on my biography site on this site. If you see it please tell me what you think.**

It was safe to say that Monarch and Icky were friends now. Bizzare indeed how such a confrontation could lead to such a budding friendship but

it did. Both gentlemen accepted their punishment honorably and apologized to each other and their fans on national TV. Still neither would

elaborate on what really lead to the altercation, that was, the ordeals with their mothers. Rightfully so they both felt it was none of the public's

business. They merely stuck to the farce that Monarch bumped the Late Model on purpose and everyone outside their close knit circle fell for it.

Icky placed second in the Piston Cup Final, first such Piston race. The good news didn't end there. The world's largest race sponsor and one of

the biggest corporations in the world had been watching both him and Monarch. To their pleasant surprise, Dinoco had approached both

rookies with a proposition to _make both of them_ their faces for Dinoco. It was not a common move but it was not unheard of for any sponsor to

sometimes take more than one racer at a time. Most simply couldn't afford it. Dinoco on the other hand was another story. Super powerful and

super rich, a multi-billion dollar entity, Dinoco could more than afford more to sponsor more than one race car. It could sponsor several at once if

it chose to. The tradition was to sponsor just one at a time, to make the image of that particular car the official figurehead racee for Dinoco, thus

that car became associated with the company until he retired from racing, which would be a decade or more. Once a car was with this company,

he was certain to stay sponsored until he left the sport or got killed, Chrysler forbid. Being the powerhouse player that it was Dinoco decided to

sponsor two racers this time, and possibly even a third if it felt like it.

When the gracious Tex Dinoco founded his oil company in 1959, Dinoco quickly gained noterirety as a prestigious firm in the way it did business,

how well it treated all of its employees down to even its janitors to how it stressed the importance of good manners over greed and fame.

Racers who had the privilege of calling Dinoco saw up close how Tex cared for those who worked for him, how those under him cared for him. It

was a huge family; Dinoco employed nearly 200,000 vehicles world wide in some 86 countries. Its main headquarters was set up in Austin, Texas

which was Tex's hometown and had a secondary one overseas in Paris which oversaw all of the European races. Tex was the big dog on top

and as the one who supplied most of the world's oil, was one of the wealthiest beings on the planet. With no children of his own as his wife was

unable to have any, he entrusted his massive company into the wheels of one of his former race champs Strip Weathers. The King had proven to

be every bit as capable a leader and as down-to-earth as Tex did, so when Tex retired from the empire he built he passed the torch on to the

King, who really could call himself "King". In keeping with the Dinoco tradition Strip Weathers traded in his once-blue coloring with a mellow

goldish paint finish, much like Tex. So like Tex, there was no mistaking who was the Boss of Dinoco's empire when he was around. Long retired

from racing, The King also had his headlights reinstalled as well as his horn. He was once again a "normal car", as the saying went. From the get

go he had a strong liking for both Icky and Monarch and after witnessing their brawl in the field was convinced that the two rookies would be

perfect for Dinoco's image. He even consulted Tex on it and Tex told him it was his company now, he made the decision. He reckoned the two

fighters were a good bet, he told King, but it was his call now. Not that he needed Tex's blessings but he went for it and sealed the deal with the

two. There were some in the circuit who did question Dinoco's decision to sponsor the two after their display on the field, but many more lauded

it. Dinoco stood for sportsmanship and compassion as well. Everyone deserved a second chance.

After all if Chick Hicks ended up working for them, then anyone could prove to be a great team player. King and Chick had met in private shortly

after King left racing and Chick had vented his regrets for what he had done. Neither would speak publicly about what was said in their meeting

but King only told the press that what was said between them was private and that it was not up for discussion. And that he had forgiven Chick.

That was it. Chick disappeared for several years from the spotlight altogether and when he showed up again almost ten years later, the stadium

was surprised to find him at the Dinoco pit in the company's blue, helping King scout for a new face. As they did with The Hudson Hornet when

he suddenly reappeared after 50 years, the throng of spectators welcomed Chick Back with a huge ovation. He didn't expect this kind of welcome

but was still grateful. He was a track bully and what he did to King was foul, but he was still Chick Hicks. Lightning had even made amends with

him who too also worked under King. Now he was the lead crew chief and temporary scout. The previous Dinoco idol was dropped after

embarrassing pictures of him surfaced on the internet in compromising positions for an internet porn site, pictures he claimed never should have

been made public. What one did when off the track Dinoco didn't care but still a certain image was expected to be upheld for anyone

representing Dinoco. The pictures were not what really did the unlucky car in; what really got him cut was pictures of him drinking an illegal

substance that subsequently was found in his oil when he was tested. Plus a drunk driving conviction shortly after. Dinoco had had enough and

decided to terminate his contract. The guy got the sponsor of a lifetime and blew it. Monarch and Icky were not about to be that stupid

Commonly the pit crew with that car followed them to Dinoco so both kept their forklifts. Each car would still have his own pit; he would have to.

Both could hardly contain their excitement at being simultaneously chosen to represent Dinoco. Life couldn't get any better as Monarch admired

his newly toy-blue painted body. Icky was completely covered in stickers. He had them everywhere with Dinoco's emblem on his spoiler. Monarch

chose a not-so-emblazoned look, but payed homage to his three favorite race cars of all time. The names of his father, The King, Lightning and

Chick Hicks, wearing their numbers and names exactly as they wore theirs in their hey days. "We're Big Dog racers now dude." he told Icky. "Oh

yeah." the Late Model was quick to agree. Now, if Monarch could just get that sexy Le Mans style Jane pace car to look at him. He had a plan.

**Also, next chapter will go up this Saturday.**


	8. The Prankster and The Freak

**NOTE: Any brackets "{ }" mean Jane speaking in crisp English with her French accent. Also, this is not intended to offend anyone who is French or British (I love you guys both!!!), this is a fic and this chapter just goes back on Jane's experiences with certain others, and is in no way meant to generalize an entire population.**

**Warning: maybe one line of a sensual cat call (?).**

Janiot Marceaux was her name. Her first name was pronounced "Jan-not", it was French obviously. What a hellishly sexy thing she was. A 2003

Bentley Speed 8. She was even flatter in appearance than Doc's Lambourghini wife was. Talk about areodynamics in design; this Janiot was top

of the line in her class. She had piercing brown eyes, her once olive-green coat replaced with the standard yellow/blue mixture of the Piston Cup

officials now that she was a certified Piston member. But that hellish Bently Speed 8 design of hers hadn't changed. Monarch just couldn't stop

staring at her. And she was a race car too? That made her even more exotic, a GIRL race car. Janiot Marceaux went by "Jane". It was her

nickname everyone called her, even when she lived in France. That was her birthplace, Nimes, France. She was a regular at all the big European

races, especially the Dinoco Le Mans races and participated in several big time slots. She was well-known in the European circuit and she was

damn good too. Quite a few times she went up against some of Europe's biggest race drivers, so far she was the only female ever to race in the

Le Mans, which was the Piston Cup tournament of all of Europe. Like the Piston Cup, Dinoco was a major supporter of the Le Mans

Championships. Any thing to do with racing was sure to attract the big-boy American sponsors.

It didn't stop there, Jane in fact had a Le Mans cup under her fan belt. She won the championship there three years ago and so far was the

ONLY female in its history ever to do so, as well as the only female so ever with the balls to race in it. She already had one strike against her and

that was the fact that she was a woman. Many thought she was no match in such a macho sport and she triumphantly proved the chauvenists

among them wrong. They saw just how serious she was. She still couldn't forget that particular season, how one of the top contenders was a

very overconfident Briton, also a Bently Speed 8 prototype. He had won every European circut race up to that point and was heavilly betted to

be the Le Mans winner. Jane had placed well all season, usually coming in third or second behind him. She was a humbled being but this British

race car seriously had sludge stuck up his tail pipe because he was constantly berating Jane's French roots. It was no secret that The French

and British weren't exactly the best of buddies, and that was a historical attribute. The two nations had held grudges since the middle ages and

although Jane personally liked England and met many kind British cars, this one Brit was the perfect example of the "We're superior over you

Frogs" snob, with his wannabe royal uppitiness, and slamming Jane at every turn because of her "lesser French ways". He embodied great

English superiority over the rest of Europe, whose culture was responsible for transforming the world . Jane was the bane of his existence. She,

he declared to her, came from a nation "that prided itself on preferring to sip wine rather than fight battles". And being rude to tourists. She

heard the insults from him all season. She was constantly having to prove her worth as a notable racer because of her gender, AND because she

a French one at that. It didn't matter that the Le Mans was a French-born race that was held in France by the way, few of its competitors were

natives. The French loved racing indeed but just didn't have many active participants.

Okay. She was sick of people slamming her beloved culture and its ways, every country had a way of how it saw the rest of the world. So they

lost wars. Fine. Weren't exactly soldier material, what could one say? Okay the Parisians could be rude but so were New Yorkers and cars in

Boston. The Brits could be rude, as could the Swedes. Any body could be rude or nice. Every culture had a nice and a bad side to it, but hers was

always getting slammed it seemed. It only made her angrier and her anger drove her to perform better on the track. To their credit, the British

adored Jane like all of Europe did. And not all British cars were stuck up "stuck-in-the-Victorian age crumpet eaters". She met many from England

who were very sweet to her and likewise, not all of them despised her kind, the French. There were many "Frenchies" who really adored the

British and the other way around. But their nations were probably like those of China and Japan; deep-seated grudges against the other side

for things that happened eons ago died hard. The British racer too was well- loved, but Jane unwillingly hogged all the glory from him because

she was a girl and she was a great character. She was easy going and polite. Her fans crossed all areas to include many American ones as the

Le Mans was widely watched in the States as well. And of course, the French idollized her. This British racer really was beside himself over being

upstaged by Janiot Marceaux. And in the end he lost out to her, she beat him by several feet on the last lap. He was silenced after that, and

never spoke another negative word about Jane ever again. Even he gave her due respect now. Jane decided to immigrate to America shortly

after because she had been fascinated with American ways since she was small. She swapped her racing tires for a pace car position. She didn't

notice her secret admirer staring at her from across the track.

_Not that "Jane thing, again"._ Icky rolled his eyes as he braced himself for Monarch's love sick gaze. He wished Monarch would just approach her

bumper already. For two days all he harped about was Jane thus he was determined to put an end to it. Now. One way or another he was

determined to hook the two up so Monarch could shut up already. She was a sexy-ass thing though, he had to admit.

"There she is dad. Jane Marceaux. France's greatest racer, one of Europe's best and winner of the 2023 Le Mans." Monarch said dreamily. Then

he hissed: "She's HOT." Doc was observing his son with a huge grin. His son, in love. Alot like how he felt about Prince when he first met her.

Trying to save her life from suicide at the Cliff while at the same time, thinking almost horny thoughts about her. Doc had to admit Jane was a

sultry piece of work, just like his Prince was. Like father, like son, his kid was after a sports car. Icky stood next to Monarch, trying to wave

Monarch back to reality. Monarch almost forgot that his father was even present as he swooned quietly to himself. "DAMN she looks good Icky.

I'd love to hit THAT." his eyes went wide. "Sorry Pops." he excused. Doc only laughed. "You're grown kid. You ain gotta explain that to me." Icky

sniggered. "I was that way when I came across your mother." Monarch looked at him. For an old man Monarch had heard the stories of Doc's

lust for his mother. And still even now, Doc didn't really look old. He certainly didn't act like it at times. "Look at her Dad. I want to talk to her so

bad." "Hhn. Janiot Marceaux." Doc's French was perfect, and said it with a touch that was not to over-the-top or stereotypically "French". He

spoke it like most Frenchmen he encountered did, reservered and calm. With dignity. Doc had travelled the world alot before he made Radiator

Springs his final home. France was one of his favorite destinations. Doc spent half of his 12 years studying to be a doctor in France. Paris to be

exact for six years at her prestigious medical university. One of the best in the world. He fell in love with the cars there and the culture and made

it a mission to learn French while there. By the time he came back to the States he was fluent at it and never forgot it.

It never ceased to amaze Monarch and his sister just how cultured and knoweleagable their father truly was. He was born and raised American

so of course he knew English, but he also spoke Celtic and the languege of the Commanche tribe, both so rare very few worldwide even knew

it, and he was good at French. He had seen so much in his long life, things he was more than willing to share with his offspring. "Well known

European racer, winner of the Le Mans Speed race not long ago." Doc added. "Yeah, I know. Now she's a pace car for all the big league races.

LOOK at that body." Monarch admired again. "She's even lower to the ground than Mom is." Monarch had to meet her. "Don't go making a fool

out of yourself there, kid. Just be yourself. Don't try to be too impressive because it might backfire. You know." Doc told him, remembering his

younger race days of trying to impress the ladies and finding himself in embarassing moments more than a few times. "Okay Pops." Monarch

heeded his paternal advice and the two set off with Icky. "You know, that Le Mans Champ chick likes you." Icky said. Before Monarch could ask

why his pal continued. "I heard her talking to some others this morning, talking about YOU. " and he wasn't making it up. He really did overhear

Jane speaking about him, and quite pleasantly at that. "Really now? Come on tell me, talking about me as in…..?" Monarch barely contained his

excitement. "Well, she thinks you're good-looking. You seem friendly. She really likes your eyes because they remind her of your dad. You have a

cute smile she said, and she dreams of you asking her out, and she doesn't have the courage to approach you." He confessed. Doc beamed

with pride. His boy was in love. He could feel it. He could see it. Jane would hardly be Monarch's first girlfriend; all through highschool and college

Monarch had three or four girls he dated. Things just didn't work out but he was hardly new at the love game. Doc and Prince didn't expect him

to hold out until marriage and he didn't. That was not the real world. Monarch failed to notice the mischiveous look growing in Icky's eyes; he

was feeling playful so he had an idea. Monarch couldn't stop talking about Jane and he knew now Jane had a thing for him so he was going to

get creative.

Monarch would probably kill him for it.

In the short time Monarch had known Icky he, as well as his parents knew of his talents as a

prankster. And he had another amazing talent; he was a ventriloquist. Somehow the late model was able to project his voice to make it appear

as if other cars said what was really coming from him. He was also infamous for playing some mockingly cruel jokes that could be gross at times,

hence his sobriquet, "Icky". He carried this branded title since he was a kid and took pride in it. Really, he could put the Delinquent Road

Hazards to shame. But his playing jokes was what made him such a joy to be around. Doc had a strange inkling of what Icky was up to and

braced himself to watch his totally oblivious son. He was not sure whether to warn the car with one of his notorious stare-downs or wait to see

how this would all play out. So he opted for the latter. Jane was headed their way. Monarch stood a slight ways from the other two, helplessly

oogling Jane as she came closer. Icky distorted the corner of his mouth in a way that was virtually invisible to anyone looking directly at him.

"_**SSSSSsssssssss, ooooooh, SEXXXXXXXXYYYYYYY……baby. I wanna do naughty things with your axles."**_

Doc almost burst out laughing out loud. This was so inappropriate what Icky was doing, so unprofessional, but it was so funny.

Jane froze in shock. That sultry voice came out of _nowhere_ and when she turned in the direction of where she perceived the flirtatious tone to be

coming from all she saw was a totally mortified Monarch perched there with a stupid gape on his face. If it was him then: _What a freak! Can't _

_even contain his dirty thoughts in public._ Jane thought. It appeared as though he was the one that said it. All he could do was grin. "Hi. Jane."

He greeted, inside seething at Icky. He knew it was him. Jane glared at him, then rode up to him. She just looked at him. Then Icky. She slowly

began to gather that the remark came from the Late Model rather than the hybrid, but she played along. She was well aware of these two. "Uh,

forgive me please it's not like me to say such things." Monarch regained his composure. Jane smiled warmly at him. "{You. Monarch Hudson.

Great racer.}" she started, her voice was soft and gentle and very exotic with that unique European accent, with just a hint of French origin that

was not over exaggerated as English-speaking French cars were often portrayed. But it was still romantic to hear. She then looked at Icky.

"That was me that said that. I'm sorry. I tend to be a prankster at times, I'm messing with my friend here. Forgive me." Icky told her partially

honest, partially meaning what he did. "{I understand. You. You are Icky Blazer. Another great racer. Well-known trickster, likes to play jokes on

the unsuspecting. You do a good job. And you are the great Hudson Hornet I've heard so much about. It is a pleasure to meet you sir." Jane

turned to Doc. "Sweet little lady, it is an HONOR to meet you. You're one hell of a racer child." Doc was truly smitten by her presence. {Thank

you. And you were also, I used to watch the old black and white reels of you racing in'zee fifties. You and a few others are the reason why I

choose racing.}" she really did have a sultry voice. She backed up slightly and right into Monarch who didn't know that he had parked right

behind her until her back end collided softly into his face. Doc had to keep himself in check from smiling as he thought back on the time of

discovering that video of Prince dancing her tail against his cardboard face in Flo's café. This was an accident but there was no mistaking the look

on his son's face that he was momentarily turned on from a face full of Bentley Speed 8. As quickly as it came, it went, and Monarch reverted

back to his more classy nature. "{OOH! I'm so sorry Mr. Hudson.}" the genuinely embarrassed Le Mans Champ chided herself. "Oh, it's okay.

Trust me I'm not hurt by it. Miss Jane. It's a real pleasure to finally meet you. And, I'd love to be able to chat with you sometime, outside of the

race track that is. What I'm saying is I am asking you out on a date." Monarch didn't beat around the bush. "Will you go out on a date with me?

Please." He rephrased it another way when he realized he was a little too straightforward. It took a while for Jane to break into a crooked smile.

"{I would love to.}" she responded.

**Next, date leads to tying the knot and this is going to start to pick up with family loss after another….**

**Next chapt to be posted Monday!**


	9. Tragic Start To the Season

**There is some sexual stuff in here but nothing too heavy. Enjoy.**

The date had been set for Friday of that same week. Right now the two cars were spending the entire week in Indianapolis where the Indy

500 would be held so it was perfect. After a good dinner and movie, both did what most cars in this day and age did; they got busy. Neither

was the waiting type. It was not at all uncommon for engaging to take place on a first date, it was almost considered unnatural for them not

to do it on the first night. This wasn't the fifties anymore. It was one of the best hook ups either of them had had, with Monarch teasingly

referring to her French oil as the reason why she was such an erotic femme fatale on the hotel mat. She took it in stride, equally impressed

with his performance. The two hit it off immediately and made it clear to the country where their hearts belonged. It was fascinating because

currently Jane lived in Dallas, the usual site of the Piston Cup race while he lived hundreds of miles away in Los Angeles with Icky. Most

couples would have had a difficult time staying so faithful to each other when they lived far apart in two different states. It was inevitable

that one of them would cheat. Or with so few opportunities to see each other regularly that one was sure to lose interest in the relationship

eventually and end it. But these two were an exception. In spite of their long distance from each other, both remained completely loyal to

each other with eyes for no one else but each other. Everyone lauded them for it because it was just not easy to do. Especially in the world

of the spotlight. Celebrity marriages were notorious for being short-lived. Jane and Monarch did talk on the phone daily, and a lot of times that

included a great deal of phone play to relieve each other's tension. That was really sexy. Icky especially got off on it, having busted Monarch

more than once exciting his girl through the phone link and picked on him about it.

As for Icky he enjoyed the single life too much to have a steady girlfriend yet. Yes, one day, he wanted to find that one lady, settle down and

build a family, and was determined to be the true husband and father his own sire never was, but he predicted that was a few years off still.

Right now he was simply happy with his flings. He was still very good to the girls he wooed; he didn't just kick them to curb once he got in

their brakes. He was, however upfront with a potential one-night standee by letting her know then and there that he just wanted to get it

on with her and give her a wonderful night of fun, that he was not looking to be her "man". He _had_ to be respected for that and he was,

especially when a guy usually led the girl on into thinking he wanted her to be his one and only. And then dropped the ball on her as soon as

he got in that tank. Icky wasn't like that. He seriously believed that guys and girls could be friends AND lovers. Monarch of course disagreed

with it; if someone was a friend, you didn't sleep with your friend(s). Icky had several female buddies he sometimes engaged for the heck of

it. They didn't seem to mind it either so it must have been okay. It was his life, just like Monarch had his with Jane's. But at least Icky didn't

just blow his sporadic lovers aside after the fact, either. Every girl he rolled with, if he happened to see her again in a night club or some

place, he always spoke to her, was nice, asked how she was and all. He didn't pretend to not see her nor did he broadcast to the world how

good or bad she was on the mat. He just didn't believe in that. He would sleep with a car and still respect her when he saw her again. What he

did with the lady behind closed doors he kept it to himself. He didn't care if SHE told her girlfriends everything. He didn't. He knew he was

good at sex and he didn't brag about it either. He heard all of the talk swarming around him here and there, it was funny because he would

enter a room and the women cars would bring their talk down low so he couldn't hear them. He knew they were discussing his talents yet it

didn't bother him. They said he really knew how to please a lover. Icky simply ignored it, and would greet them with a polite "Hello Ladies."

And they returned it sincerely. Guys were different from girls; girls talked about like that unfortunately were branded with disgusting

stereotypes that followed them around. Guys talked about like that were looked upon as "awesome" studs. Icky didn't agree with this

because to him it was a double-standard. In his view girl could get around too and not be loose. But he didn't create the world perception of

what constituted a "ho". He couldn't change that. Some DID call him a ho. He was a boy ho, a "male whore" , he knew it and he was good at

it. He wore his title of _Boy Slut_ with pride but not in such a way that he ran around bragging to the masses of his home boys about it. Okay,

occasionally he would give Monarch a few juicy details of what transpired but that was about it. He trusted Monarch to keep his mouth shut.

Monarch didn't go around telling every one else everything the way some of Icky's other friends might; they would mouth off and give that

girl Icky was with an undeserving reputation. Some of Icky's friends might get the impression that that babe might get around too with _them_

and Icky didn't wish that on any girl he engaged. He only trusted Monarch not to hound his various lovers and no one else, so yeah he would

tell Monarch things. Icky, despite his stud ways, was still fun to be around with. Many females wanted to be his one and only but they had

to admire him for not kicking them to the curb once he "got it". Yes he could see himself married and loving only one car, just not right now in

this point in time.

Monarch on the other hand was all about monogamy. Which was a good thing. Icky applauded him for it because he didn't have the galls to

do it. Plus Jane was a good catch. She was a sweet and funny car. Gorgeous as all get out and nonchalant at all the gawking stares she got

from others when she rolled around in public. Only Monarch laid claim to this Bentley. After a year of courtship the two married and Monarch

relocated to Dallas. The two had a plush home just on the outskirts. The Piston Cup race that year was in one day. Everything was going fine

until that night when Diana came out of her remission and suffered another crisis, and then Icky coming home from racing practice in

Nevada. He was hit head-on by a drunken SUV. Monarch would never forget sitting there watching the news when the words rolled across

the ticker at the bottom: "Racer Icky Blazer involved in a head-on collision in Reno. Doctors have determined his condition to be life-

threatning and not is expected to survive." He rose up, dead silent with shock. He had made it to the Piston Cup this year and was due to race

in it tomorrow, he and Icky both. He had to get to Nevada immediately. Just then the phone rang. It was King. "We're heading to Nevada

now. Next plane out, Icky's been in a car wreck. A bad one." "Yeah—I'm with you. I'll meet you at the air port Boss." Monarch swallowed.

On his way there he found out that Icky kept asking about Monarch, wanting to see Monarch at once. His words could barely be made out

because his grill was so badly smashed that it was almost impossible to talk. One person Monarch spoke to told him he swore he heard Icky

say he was "holding out long enough for Monarch to get there." With Jane at his side, he was quiet the whole time during the flight. Shit. A

day before the Piston race and his best friend was fighting for his life. He, as well as King and other Dinoco members were contemplating

suspending their participation of the Piston Cup this year, which would include Monarch not racing, out of simple respect for one of their own

being so gravely injured. It just didn't seem right for Dinoco to race considering the situation. Monarch truly lost his urge to race tomorrow.

Little did he know that his decision would be met with resistance by a certain one at the hospital. Icky had a request for Monarch, he kept

saying to those in the room with him, that he wanted Monarch to promise him something. Monarch would know when he got there, if Icky

could fight long enough to see him.


	10. Promise Me

His parents accompanied him at his request. On his way to ICU, Monarch learned what transpired. The accident occurred at about 10:00 P.M.,

a little over two hours ago. Icky was at first parked at a rest area on the highway just five miles outside of Reno while his big rig carrier

was taking a brief nap. He let Icky out of his cab to stretch his wheels. An intoxicated Acura SUV was driving erratically down the highway

and menacing other cars. Other drivers said he was swerving all over the road prior to getting on the ramp exit and appeared to be drunk.

He then came flying down the off ramp to the rest stop, witnesses said, at close to 90 mph or so, slamming face-first into the racer at the

bottom. The SUV was killed on impact while Icky was left severely injured. The collision was so violent that it sent pieces of the SUV flying as

far as 50 feet; he literally disintegrated. On-the-site drug tests of his splattered fluids were administered by the first highway patrol cars to

arrive on the scene, which tested positive for alcohol. The vehicle was nearly five times over the limit. Icky was knocked into a violent spin

almost 20 feet across the small rest stop park. He would have gone much farther than that it was determined had it not been for a tree that

stopped him. He had never seen it coming, let alone had time to react to it. According to police, the SUV's internal speedometer clocked him

at 101 miles an hour at the time of the collision because that was the number it was frozen on when his dashboard was found. It wasn't a

suspected suicide where the SUV was plotting to take an innocent along with him, but rather a very, VERY tragic accident. A STUPID accident,

one that came about because of someone choosing to hit the road drunk rather than sleep it off, and not only did it cost him his life but

potentially the life of a complete innocent. Icky was air lifted to the nearest hospital. Condition: life-threatening critical.

It had quickly been ruled out that Icky was not driving on his own on the freeway, obviously because of where the wreck happened, and

being what he was he knew better than to drive on the road at night. This was the one real negative about being a professional race car,

racers were restricted as to when they could drive freely. In the daytime it was no problem, they could share the open roads and surface

streets of a city with other cars because it was broad daylight. But once it became dark race cars were banned from driving due to their lack

of headlights. Of course they went out to night clubs and dinner at night. They could roam about in a small area like a parking lot and the like

at night. But if they wanted to venture out in public at night they HAD to have a carrier escort with them at all times, be it a tow truck or their

personal eighteen-wheeler chaperones. To be caught at night on a street or freeway without headlights was just asking for a ticket as long

as their bodies were wide. Not to mention possible jail time for repeat offenders, and possibly being banned for life from professional racing.

Anyone entering the race care lifestyle understood these rules and Icky was no exception. His big rig was with him obviously so it had long

been quickly concluded that Icky didn't contribute to this catastrophe. Even if he had been somewhat at fault, no one deserved to be injured

like this.

The plane safely landed and Monarch was escorted to the hospital. The staff generally allowed only close family members two at a time into

its ICU, but Monarch was family to Icky. This car was dying so the least they could do was grant his wish and allow anyone he desired into

the room with him. "I'm sorry to say that his condition is very grave. I mean very grave. We would like to be optimistic but there is a very high

probability that he will not survive this. It will be a miracle if he survives the night. There is really nothing more we can do for him other than

administer pain-killers to him to ease his pain, which we already have. More than likely he's in so much shock that he probably can't feel

anything now. Surgery would simply kill him at this point; the injuries he has sustained are too great. " the doctor somberly told Monarch,

Jane, Prince and Doc. He was very polite and professional, clearly concerned for his dying patient as any good doctor would be. Like any he

had to keep his collectiveness together when dealing with family and friends of a loved one and not let emotion get the better of him. But his

quiet tone and voice spoke volumes. The ER doctor looked down briefly. "I won't lie to you," he sighed looking back up at Doc. "be prepared

for what you're about to see. Prepare yourself for how he will look when you see him. It's not going to be…pleasant. But know this, the

individual you see in there, is still the same individual he was before, and that's how all of you need to remember him. " he added. "He no

longer has eyes so he can't see you. He can hear and he can talk with great difficulty. I think he's holding on just long enough to see

everyone he loves first for the final time. " Doc swallowed, knowing as a doctor himself where this one was coming from. The white truck

meant that Icky was so badly deformed that the hospital thought it was best not even to allow his mother in to see him, let alone what they

viewed to be strangers like these four. She met her son at the hospital as soon as she learned which one he was being transported to and

she saw him as he was being brought in. She totally freaked out and was now in a waiting room with other relatives, trying to be comforted.

She was screaming and pleading, demanding to be let in to see her son but everyone decided against it. Some were even contemplating

not even letting her attend her own son's funeral. Icky's mother was so hysterical that she started to vomit. Prince could see her down the

hall and she looked at her husband. Doc only nodded. "She needs you right now. I understand." He said to her and she disappeared down

the hall to the waiting room to offer what comfort she could.

Monarch steeled himself for what was to come as he slowly entered the room. The King, Chick Hicks and another one Icky's friends were

already there. Monarch froze in the doorway as soon as he saw Icky. Jane gaped. "Oh my god." She whispered. She wasn't sure she could

stomach this but she has to be brave. Especially for her husband. Because he really looked like he was about to crumble to rust. What

should have been Icky's face was completely smashed in. His grill was now right under his eyes. He looked as though he didn't even have a

face, just two blank holes where his eyes once were. He no longer had eyes. His mouth was nowhere; it had been pushed completely inside

of his interior. He had no front tires, not even rims. Even they now sat at twisted angles under his carriage. One whole side of him was

completely missing. Tubes protruded from him, the IV's that gave him relief. Doc went up to Icky and planted a ginger kiss to the Late Model's

hood. Jane started to stroke where she thought his front tire was beneath him. She shook her head, eyes welling up. Somehow Icky knew it

was her and Doc. His talking was very raspy, almost alien. "Tk you. F' coming." He throated out. "Your welcome son. You're like a son to us

you know that?" Doc told him as Prince came in. Once she got past her initially appaulled reaction to Icky she immediately came over and

embraced him with her hug, the tears coming. Her weeping was silent but Icky felt them trickling down him. He swallowed as best he could. If

he could have smiled he would have. He knew it was Prince. "M'nrck". He was trying to say "Monarch". Monarch swallowed hard as he was

standing right in front of the pal he considered to be a brother. "Rrh'c." Icky told him. "Huh?" Monarch snapped out his struggling world not to

break down in front of everyone. "T' rce t…mhrow. I want you to rrhc. Promise me." Icky struggled out. Everyone knew what he was saying.

"I want you to race tomorrow. Promise me." He meant. Chick, The King, and Doc all looked at each other. Monarch shook his head. "I can't

Icky. Not like this. Not with you like this, this…" Monarch started. "Race." Icky struggled. Monarch looked at his father. Doc was at a loss of

words. He didn't know what to say. He really didn't know what to tell his son. Icky appeared to swallow, and then his EKG monitor started to

flatline. Monarch lost it and collapsed on top of him, sobbing uncontrollably. Everyone crowded around him in a multiple hug as doctors and

nurses came in. In the waiting room, Icky's mother screamed, screeching to get down to her son's room, immediately realizing that her son

had just passed away, but another distressed car was preventing her from leaving the room by grabbing at one of her spinning back tires.

Prince came down the hall to help restrain her. Doc shut his eyes, fighting the urge to weep as he watched Chick coax Monarch away so that

the staff could do their job. They drew the curtains around Icky's mat.


	11. The Race

Everyone was devastated by the passing of Icky. It was especially hard for those who were there at the time he died. While those like Doc

were accustomed to sometimes witnessing a death, still it made it no less troubling to watch. He had adopted Icky, in the short time that he

knew him, as his second son. He watched as his wife sat parked in the waiting room down the hall, bereft against Prince's shoulders. He

couldn't help but wonder if the green 2006 Jaguar had any idea if the woman comforting her in an embrace was the same Lambourghini

that has been the target of her ex-husband's advances for so long. It was the last thing on the comely Jaguar's mind right now. She

needed solace and Prince provided it. If she did recognize Prince she didn't really show it at the moment, understandibly so because in this

moment she lost her only child. And that overrrode any other feelings she may have had when Prince entered the room to calm her. And

according to Icky, his mother harbored no ill feelings toward Prince about his father's neaderthal behavior. The day the two talked on the

track, his wife and Icky, Prince told Doc everything that took place in their conversation. Being he was her husband she didn't keep secrets

from him. And Icky reiterated everything he told Prince soon after once he and Monarch started to form a strong bondship. He watched

Prince softly crooning to the grief-stricken Jaguar, rocking slowly from side-to-side, just as she would do with Monarch when he was small

and upset. The mother had cried so much that she had no more tears left. She went through the physical characteristics of sobbing, but she

had no more fluid left in her body to make tears. Doc thought back momentarily about what Prince revealed to him what Icky told her. As

she explained their discussion Doc felt the gas boiling in him from anger then and he felt it now, at this coward of a car called Mr. Blazer.

Treating this seemingly beautiful luxury car like he did. It disgusted Doc to no end that this character openly disrespected his former wife

like he did. Not to mention physically abused her as well, set a lousy example for his son, and harassed Prince. He ruined the lives of three

people, this Blazer character, and right now Doc hated him for it as he stared at Icky's mother. He was sorely tempted to hunt this car

down and mete out some vigilante justice of his own. The dog couldn't even be here at his son's death bed. But then again, Icky had made

it clear that he cut his father out of his life. The two had disowned each other years back. The Late Model didn't care where he was, who he

was with, what he did with his life and his billions as long as he kept his distance from him and especially his mother. So then again, Doc

couldn't fault Icky's father for being awol at the moment. It still ground his motor nonetheless.

It was unlikely Icky's father would even come to the funeral, not that the Jaguar's family would want him there to begin with. There had

been some debate as whether or not to even tell the limo his son got killed, but then again people reasoned if he watched TV at all he

would have known about his son's plight. This was a very touchy situation because even though Icky and his father fell out, he still had a

right as a _father_ to come to his funeral. Or, maybe not. This was one area Doc surely wanted no part of and he knew his wife would not be

happy to see her former boss again. Not to mention Doc wasn't even sure how he would react to seeing the man that nearly drove his wife

to suicide, plus made his own a nervous wreck. More than likely it wouldn't be pleasant. On the other hand, Icky had been adopted by Doc

now so he claimed the right to go to his funeral….but what if his real father DID show up….Doc came out of his contemplating. This was not

the time for thinking. He was actually disturbed with himself for even thinking these things; Icky hadn't even been dead an hour and already

he was creating scenarios in his mind as to who should attend his funeral and what might potentially go down. It wasn't his call to make as

it was.

"Honest opinion Chick, what do you think of Monarch racing?" King asked one of Dinoco's crew chiefs outside the hospital, a few hours into

Icky's death. He was still shaken by seeing his racer die, as was Chick. "I don't know, King. Half of me tells me if this is what Monarch wants

to do, and he's okay with it then he should do it. Icky WANTED him to race anyway tomorrow. You saw the kid; he begged and pleaded with

Monarch to race anyway. If Monarch feels up to it, I say race. But another half of me says this isn't right. Somehow, it feels wrong to race

the day after one of your icons had died. It….seems disrespectful to the deceased to race so soon after a tragedy like this. BUT…it seems

disrespectful to deny the deceased's final wish that he wants you to race on his behalf. It seems like a catch-22 to me King. Half of me says

yes, and half of me says no." Chick answered tiredly and truthfully. King nodded in silent agreement. He pretty much felt the same. "Yeah. I

hear you. It seems right but then it seems wrong. We're all seriously upset about this. They punched the wrong clock on Icky, I tell you. I

feel like a piece of me got ripped out, watching him look like that. And now this is on Monarch's shoulders it seems. I told him he don't have

to race tomorrow if he doesn't want to, because Chrysler know's I couldn't do it. I told him Dinoco can call it off, we all need bereavement

time here. There's always next season. But he told me he wants to. He's gotta do it for Icky. He's got to, that's what he said. Between you

and me, I don't think he's fit to race tomorrow, not in his mental state right now. " he finally said. "But we can't stop him either. Can we."

Chick half-asked/half-commented. King shook his head. "I guess we can't son." Was his response. Dinoco's other crew chief, Lightning

McQueen joined them. Like King, he too had a premonition about this race tomorrow, and didn't agree with it, but also supported whatever

Monarch's decision was. But Lightning agreed with Chick as well, the least Monarch could do was honor his friend's final wish.

The Piston Cup began the race by announcing the tragic death of Icky Blazer, one of Dinoco's two star racers, and held a fitting tribute for

him prior to the event. It was also known by now that Monarch had decided to take a shot at the Piston Cup as well, and it was learned

why; that a dying Icky made him promise to race this race. No one was sure how these details got out but being that an emergency room

was a public place, it was no real surprise that the whole country found out about it. That was, about why Monarch chose to participate in

this year's Cup final. None of that was on Monarch's mind at the moment. All he could think of was the state his friend was in when he saw

him. Doctors said he could no longer feel pain. Monarch had sure hoped so. Icky looked like some sort of disfigured monster. He didn't even

look like a car anymore. Monarch just couldn't erase the lack of eyes out of his head. He woke up just in time to realize he almost drove

straight into the wall on his second turn. This was the fourth time he had spun out during the race, and each time it was a simple thing that

should NOT have resulted in a spin-out. There was a loud moan across the crowd.

**Commentator 1: "_OH!! Monarch loses control yet again._ " **

The second commentator hesitated briefly.

**"I think it's safe to say that…his heart is just not in this race today, and it's perfectly understandible, considering the events that have**

**happened within the last 24 hours. Not EVEN 24 hours; it's been less than 24 hours since Icky died…surely that has got to be **

**weighing heavily on Monarch Hudson right now. As we speak. He made a brave move in trying to race today, on behalf of Icky Blazer.**

**Icky Blazer wanted him to race today, but, I believe it's clear at this point that he just doesn't have the strength or the motivation to**

**go on. "**

That was it. Monarch was calling it quits. Plus he was so far behind now he wouldn't even place in the top twenty slots. _Fuck it_. What could

he say? "I tried."? Shaking his head and struggling to keep his novel composure as he slowly rolled along the track, he waited patiently for

the other race cars to safely pass him before speeding up just enough to get to a side dugout. As he did so, the crowd began cheering

loudly for him, completely understanding his decision to not finish the race.

**Commentator 2: "And he is calling it quits on this year's race. And, as you can see, the crowd is on his side. Very emotional moment **

**right now in Speedway Stadium."**

"It's okay kid. It's alright. Just let it go. We're proud of you kid." Chick Hicks was the first to greet Monarch, who made a bee line straight for

him and broke down away from the cameras. He just needed to cry right now and Chick let him. "I'm sorry I failed you guys." Monarch's

voice wept from under Chick's hold. "You didn't fail us you got that??" Chick scolded him softly. King, Prince, Lightning and Doc all pulled up

and huddled around Monarch offering their comfort. "I'm sure right now Icky is smiling down at you right now. You tried kid. There's no

shame in trying, there's no shame in crying." Chick told him. The huge racetrack stadium was still applauding him.

Really, Dinoco didn't care if Monarch never won a Piston Cup. To be sure most of its drivers were racing champions and Dinoco had far more

Piston Cup trophy wins than all of the other sponsors _combined_. But some who raced for them NEVER won a Piston Cup, and that was fine

with them. Some bungled every single race they ever raced in representing Dinoco. But they were flawless in other areas, like charity

work even if they sucked at racing. Dinoco prided itself on going after who they thought would best represent their company through their

ACTIONS, and not by how many racing titles they held. Many racers had snide and arrogant attitudes, much like how Lightning and Chick

were back in they hey days, and even in Doc's hey day racers were attitudey. Most of them. Dinoco was never about "Mr. Hot Shit Driver"

attittude, even if it was the biggest player out there. Racers picked to be on team Dinoco had way more than determination to win. That

Monarch screwed up so badly today was like a sand pebble scratching an aircraft carrier. No one cared.

Someone else won the Cup that day.

Days later Icky's funeral took place. As generally predicted, his father was a no-show, much to the relief of Doc. Monarch gave the final

eulogy at the gravesite. The respected bull dozers waited patiently for the sermon to finish. The hearse that towed Icky's casket sat parked

near the large gathering crowd. "Icky, I tried brother. I'm sorry I didn't get that trophy for you. I don't think I tried my best last week but it'll

be alright man. I didn't understand at the time why you wanted me to race. But I think I do understand now. I will miss you. I love you. The

big brother I never had." Monarch swallowed hard, and then retrieved a framed picture of him and Icky together in the newly painted

Dinoco blue paint jobs and decals. He carefully nestled it in the center of the swell of flowers near Icky's open grave. He was determined to

get that Piston Cup. Not for himself. But for Dinoco. For his Pops. And most of all, for Icky.


	12. Karma Is A Bitch

**This is just a brief flashback on how Icky's mother and Chick Thunder Hicks got hitched. It's a little off subject, I apologize. I just had to get this off of my chest.**

**Warning: Some strong words.**

**Present**:

An olive-green Jaguar made her way up to the small group with Chick Hicks right next to her. She and Chick both parked right next to Prince

and Doc. These two showed up but others were still to arrive. Monarch, Guido, Doc and Prince turned to greet the two. "Thanks a

lot for coming guys. This means a lot." Monarch addressed them. "No problem kid. You know we wouldn't miss this. King Lightning and Sal are

all on their way, they're running a little late." Chick told him. "Sal" was the nickname he had created for Sally who actually preferred it to her

real spelling. "Chick. Mercy. " Doc spoke their names in greeting, nodding his head at each individual. "Hey Doc. Prince." Chick returned in

classic Chick Hicks style and Mercy, the Jaguar with him. "Welcome." was Prince's only response, as she was so focused on how happy her

newest girl friend seemed, with her new fellow at her side. She couldn't help but grin. As somber as an event this was, it was still a

wonderful thing to see Mercy's life back on track after what she had been through in the past three years. Her son was Icky Blazer. When

she thought her world had finally collapsed at his sudden loss, Chick was one of the ones who was always checking up on her aside from

Prince, and a year later, he found himself increasingly attracted to Icky's mother. For good reasons he kept those feelings to himself for the

longest, as it was simply not the proper time to come on to her considering what she had gone through. And like everyone else, he knew

about her ex-husband and her fear of ending up in another violent relationship. But no car deserved to live out the rest of her life in lonliness

like she had sentenced herself to. So Chick decided to wait. That's what he told Monarch.

That wait receded quickly when 14 month's after Icky's death none other than Boss Blazer, his estranged father suddenly turned up in

Radiator Springs.

**The incident reimaged to Monarch as if it happened yesterday.**

Mercy was talked into moving to Radiator Springs by Doc and Prince and she did, to begin what she had hoped would be a new life after the

death of her son. She had no reason to stay in the big city now that he was deceased. As Radiator Springs newest addition to the

population, everything was going fine until "Boss" came. He came into town, and immediately started accusing her of losing everything he had.

It was a bizarre scenario to say the least. At first no body knew who he was. Someone lost for hours now was taking it out on the first local

he saw? Clearly he had a lot of money from his looks; he was Mercedes Benz eight-door limo with shining gold-plated trim up and down

his body. So much bling that even the Delinquents, known for their flashiness, thought it was over the top. It DID look good on him though.

Even his side views were diamond-studded. They were the first to hap upon the scene of catching the stranger alone with Mercy who had her

cowering against the edge of the tires Red often knocked over in one of his crying fits. Not that they were trying to be nosy, but all four of

them were minding their own businesses when they heard shouts coming from Mater's lot. What was an angry car and a female pleading

for him to leave her alone, to get out of town and never track her down again. Now sensing something was very wrong, the Delinquents hid

around side and watched. The limo appeared drunk, and was ranting about how he lost millions in the stock market (due to bad investing on

his part), blamed her for it. He was in an enormous amount of debt, he had become the laughing stock of Las Vegas, the Feds were after

him for tax evasion. Incredibley, somehow it was all Mercy's fault because if he had never met her, _he sai_d, but had someone else like

"Prince", and if Icky had a different mother, like Prince, maybe he'd still be alive. She got blamed for Icky's death, according to Boss, because

if someone else had been his mother, he'd still be married to her which meant Icky never would have left to enter sports racing. None of it

made sense because it was clear that the high-end car was in a drunken fit of rage and came here to settle a score. How he managed to find

out where his ex-wife lived was not important at the moment; right now Mercy appeared to be in extreme danger. She couldn't scream

because he had extracted a mounted gun barrel from under his front bumper and threatened to shoot her if she did. His plan was to 'take

her ass on a little ride' as he put it…..

That's when the Delinquents decided to act.

Having heard and seen enough all four of them screeched out of their concealed places with a maelstrom of screaming tires and burning

smoke and surrounded the startled limo. The looks in their eyes spoke pure murder and there was no doubt in the limo's mind that these

guys had seen a lot of crime in their lives. For at least two of them, their rap sheets did include murder. There was no questioning that these

four meant business if he made any move toward Mercy again. Boost was the first to reach the limo and when he did he rode the car almost

down the embankment and pinned him there, vowing to "run his bitch ass over" until no one could tell what kind of car he used to be. The fact

that the limo was twice as long as Boost didn't phase the Mitsubishi eclipse, Boost being a dragster had twice the power the limousine had.

Not knowing what hit him at first Boss initially was in fear of his life. It started to wear off somewhat as the alcohol he consumed once again

took over his senses. He started talking shit to the Delinquents, about their honor of being Mercy's bodyguards when he was promptly

warned to shut the fuck up by DJ. Snot Rod was practically up under Boss with his flame throwers, threatening to set the car ablaze if he

didn't stay quiet. He wasn't playing either. The sudden commotion of noise brought many to the scene, including Doc, Prince, DJ's and Tia's

daughter TJ, Monarch, and a visiting Chick Hicks racing out. As well as the entire police department of Radiator Springs. "What's happening

here?" Four Wheel demanded. "Mercy's guest was just leaving." Boost answered sarcastically, his glare never leaving the limo. The cops

were ready to do their jobs, but the Delinquents beat them to it. The police had another job; playing the peacemakers. Realizing who was held

down, Doc and Chick immediately went off the deep end, both of them wanting pieces of Boss Blazer. It took all five cops plus several other

strong vehicles to hold BOTH of them back. While Prince stared in disgust at Boss, she cradled Mercy still shaking from the whole ordeal,

while Chick hurled all the pent up hatred he had for the limo. Chick cursed the very roads Boss drove on and let the car have it about

screwing up his ex's and son's life. Not to mention never tried to make amends with Icky, didn't even have the decency to pick up the phone

and call the mortuary where his son's body lay. No one had ever seen Chick this angry, not even Lightning. It was certain had Chick been

able to get at Boss, he would have torn the car to shreds. "Dad.. STOP IT!! HE'S NOT WORTH IT!!" Monarch blocked the Hornet with his

own body. Doc fared barely better, being talked to his senses by his son. Doc listened to his son's words. So he choose to not make a scene in

front of his young wife and Mercy, but he couldn't blame Chick Hicks. Chick didn't care who heard what he said. Right then and there he let

everyone know how he felt about Mercy, had felt for her for months and told Boss where he could go.

The Delinquents backed off as the cops moved in to arrest Boss. He was held at the impound until the FBI came the next day for him to

transport him. It came to light what unraveled Boss's world; some of the sexy show girls he had been romping with played him like a deck of

cards. They never really wanted him, but just wanted his money. He was so stupidly in love with one of them that she talked him into signing

one of his biggest bank accounts over in her name, then she took the money and ran. Then one of his accountants turned out to be crooked;

instead of doing Boss's taxes he had been pocketing large sums of money for himself, and he too upped and got out of dodge. He had been

bilking Boss Blazer for over a period of years until, unbeknown-st to him, he had racked up nearly a billion in back taxes to the IRS. Taxes he

thought were paid of course. The accountant who had worked for the Blazers for years, was disgusted with how the Boss treated his wife

Mercy and his son so he decided to exact some justice of his own in the form of screwing Boss over with the IRS. As a tax advisor he knew

the game, and whatever he did, he fixed the books without leaving anything to trace back to HIM, to make it look like Boss was evading his

taxes. He made sure that Mercy was never held accountable for any of it as well, and large amounts of the money he stole from Boss he

donated to various foundations including one for domestic violence. They were unanimous so none one could trace the donations. This

accountant also turned out to be a hacker in his spare time so he knew computer hacking like a genius. He fixed the IRS systems to where

nothing would ever trace back to him, nor lock Mercy into the legal loophole that would ensnare her former husband. This car had been looking

out for Mercy all that time in secrecy and vied his time to get back at her husband for his treatment of her. Yes he was a licensed tax

accountant, and he was a con artist, but in this case, in a GOOD way. He had been planning this for years, little by little so as not to look too

suspicious. He took his share of the booty and finally split a few weeks ago. Then , he called up on an untraceable phone from another

country to let Boss know what he did to him. "I did this for me. But I also want you to know that I did it for your ex-wife, for how you treated

her when she was married to you. And for your dead son. This is all payback, MY way. You shitted on both of them and now you get to smell all

of it. I hope you like the country club you're going to. They REALLY love big-headed billionares there you know." And then he hung up. Boss was

left screaming curses at him into the phone. The Feds were coming for him for tax evasion, he lost all of his hotels, including the Mirage in a

stock market fiasco. Angry Investors had decided to buy him out against his will and any money he _would have recei_ved all was going to go to

back taxes. He was in a financial mess, got very drunk and set out on a strange mission to hunt down his ex-wife, and give her a piece of his

mind. Maybe even kill her. His intoxicated state was causing part of his behavior, the rest was unclear. What was clear was that alcohol and

guns under one's front fender never mixed. Especially with a grudge like the one he had against Mercy. It was big news all over the television

and newspapers for months to come, and as well the horrible relationship he had with professional racer Icky Blazer as well as his ex-wife all

came out. IT ALL CAME OUT into the public, further fueling the loathing many in the public already had for him. Almost over night he became the

most hated car in America. To say it was bad karma was putting it nicely.

Before Boss Blazer could go to trial he killed himself in his cell. And almost no one came to his funeral.

Yes, karma was a bitch.

"Good riddance." was all Doc said when he was told, and Chick didn't even so much as snort a grunt. The nightmare for Mercy had finally ended,

which meant now, he could start trying to build up her trust in romance again. And he succeeded. Chick was everything Icky's father wasn't. He

also knew Icky would have had no issue with him going after his mother. And he was very grateful that Icky wasn't alive to see what went down

in Radiator Springs when his father showed up because no one knew his the estranged son would have reacted to his mother being threatened

by the one soul he never wanted to see. It was morbid to be "glad" Icky was dead to miss that, but it was also a relief. His mother was happy

now, very happy, and that was the main thing.

Monarch had to grin as he studied Mercy and Chick. What a couple they made. As the group continued to wait for the rest of the party

Monarch turned his attention now to the small crypt of his little daughter, thinking back on her and the disaster that took her live and that of

Jane's.

**Next chapter will be up some time this week!! Gotta go!!**


	13. Flight 2006

**I used Flight 2006 as a homage to when "Cars" first came out which was the year 2006. This is kind of a depressing chapter....please enjoy still. **

**Warning: a couple of words...nothing too major. More like figure-of-expression things. I'm trying hard not to get too heavy on the profanity so please forgive. **

_**Flashback**_.

Alot could happen in a year. Months after Icky died Jane was expecting. Doc was a proud grandpa now. GRANDPA. He liked the sound of that. He

always had the grandpa look, now he could really claim that title. Jane and Monarch gave him a little granddaughter, a lively little 9-month old. To

honor his wife's birth country, Monarch decided to name his daughter Paris. Prince looked nowhere near the age of being a grandmother but she

was and proud of it too. It took a very long time for cars to age and when they did, it took longer still for age to truly catch up. Lizzy was a perfect

example of it. Her faculties may not have been 100%, being a relic of the very late 1800s but losing her husband contributed much to her mental

state. She never fully accepted his death in 1960 and she went downhill from there. Some could say that she was _never_ normal to begin with if

she couldn't accept death as a part of life but everyone dealt with it their way. True, most carried on with life after a loss, but to the Radiator

Springs residents, she was not "abnormal". Very few like her still existed naturally so she was a national treasure to many, even if she was "out

there". She adored babies. Anytime Monarch and Prince visited Radiator Springs they took little Paris to see Lizzy first, before they even took her

to Mom and Dad's . They felt it was only fitting since Lizzy was the town's matriarch.

As for Monarch's professional year this was a wonderful season for him. His technique at turning corners had much improved, though he still had a

little trouble at times, he was learning to control his turns. He had to accept that he just didn't quite have the center of gravity his sire carried

due to his somewhat odd style, but he was not having to slow down as much when he did execute. One thing was for certain, with the fastest

known speed of any racer to date, once he took the lead it was pretty much game over. Period. He stuck it to the asphalt and let it rip. That year

he had won 37 out of the scheduled 44 races, a brand new record that trumped even that of Doc's 27-win streak. What Monarch accomplished

was unheard of. Yet to be broken, and according to experts was unlikely ever to be so. Only two other cars in the sports history had ever won

more than fifteen races in one year. One was his father. The other was King winning 20 in 2006. Still it wasn't enough to beat Doc's but he

became the only other one aside from The Fabulous Hudson Hornet to exceed an average 15-win streak in one year. That enough was hard to

do. To reach 20 or exceed that like Doc and King was phenomenal. 37 wins in one season was unheard of. Even King conceded that he was

nothing like Doc and his spawn. King sporadically won his 20 throughout 2006 here and there. On the other hand, in 1952, of Doc's 27 wins,

twenty of those were back-to-back consecutive wins. IN A ROW. He was just that good. His son, his "spawn" as many started to affectionately call

him, THIRTY-TWO of those races he won BACK-TO-BACK. One after another after another, just like Pops. He didn't know how he did it, he just did.

He was blessed with an awesome back engine that was both very strong like Doc's and very fast like Moms. The kid had the endurance of a real

race car plus the speed of a luxury sports car. It got no better than this.

People were also quick to notice that Monarch even _acted_ like his legendary father out on the track. His eyes would squint narrowly into a slit-like

stare, complete with an almost raging glare. And his mouth would turn up in one corner into a menacing sneer, slashing a corner of his pearly

whites--just like how the Hudson Hornet would do in the 50s. He kept this threatening expression throughout the entire duration of the race,

changing it to a closed mouth look when he hit corners---exactly like how Doc did. Doc had never taught him this look; it was a genetically

inherited trait that Monarch did by instinct. Like he was programmed to do it, while in Prince's belly he was probably sneering like his father,

wanting to hurry up and get born, his friends would tease him. Probably came into the world sneering like that. Monarch had been sneering like

this since he was a small boy horse playing and secretly drag racing with his friends. At that time he had yet to see any of Dad's racing videos.

Most of the time he wasn't even aware that he was doing it until his friends asked him why he look so pissed off all the time when they raced.

Watching Dad's race videos didn't interest him at ten years old so he never saw Doc do it. He just did it. Yep, he was Doc's kid. Now, Monarch

blazed town the tracks looking like he would kick the back bumper of any one that got in his way. He looked like he had hell in him and was about

to kick some unlucky car's ass. That snarl reverberated the words: "Either move your ass or move the hell over." JUST LIKE DOC. After every race

he would power slide into a left turn on the in field, smiling. Straight out of that powerslide he would start doing doughnuts and then he came to

rest, facing the throngs of adoring fans....just like how his father used to do. It was his way of saying thank you to those that supported him.

THAT trick he did learn from Pops. Doc didn't teach him this stunt either, Monarch learned it from watching the old black and white archive footage

of his old man's races in his teen years. And he was one of the few racers that didn't let the fame of who he was go to his head. He was one of

the most loved racers alive. He was good and humbled.

Monarch Hudson, like Doc, had become a major threat to the world of racing. It was clear he was in the top contention for a Piston Cup.

This was one of the most publicized Piston Cup races. A large part had to do with the top four contenders, all well-known competitors with

Monarch being one of them. Another large factor was that this was Monarch's second Piston Cup race following the heartbreaking one from last

year, of him trying to race hours after the death of one of his friends. The last thing Monarch tolerated was sympathy, he didn't accept pity. But he

knew that the circumstances surrounding last year's cup race would automatically draw attention to this year's race. He really didn't like being

the center of attention but this came with the territory. One thing was certain, this time, this race was for his friend Icky Blazer. He was well-

prepared and ready, out on the track with the 26 other cars in their starting positions. The rules had changed slightly. Because of Monarch

possessed such a fast engine, he was required to start near the rear. This fairly gave the slower cars a chance to race. Monarch was fine with it.

He just wished that his wife and daughter could hurry up and get here. They were on their way. Jane and baby Paris had gotten held up back

east because of bad weather, coming back from Jane visiting friends in New York City. Monarch couldn't go with her because promotional

commitments he had for Dinoco and he didn't want her to wait a week for him to be free. He urged her to go on without him, but now he was

starting to wish he had. Jane demanded that he not wait for her and just go on and race, that she was coming. She had missed her earlier flight

and was going to be on the next one and she didn't want him worrying. He needed to focus on this race, she said. She didn't want to miss her

husband's race either but she didn't want him backing out if she wasn't there. He gave in and got ready, and then learned that Jane's plane had

finally gotten off the ground at La Guardia Airport. The race would have started by then but she wouldn't miss too much of it. The last update he

received was that her plane was due to land in about 40 minutes. He had said his prayers for his family's safe trip and started to race, well ahead

in the lead. Almost two hours later and there was no longer any questioning that Monarch was about to take home the Piston Cup. With just four

more laps to go he had a huge lead. Some were already prematurely calling him the projected winner. Even though he knew he sealed victory,

Monarch pushed himself as if all the cars behind him were driving up his tail pipe. In his world, it wasn't over until he crossed the checkered flag.

He wasn't about to slow down because he was "ahead". The Dinoco team understandably was excited. A great many onlookers were. After what

happened last year, Monarch deserved this trophy. The commentators were already getting worked up about it.

On the sidelines, a very distraught-looking Chick Hicks rolled out into the crew area. He was by no means hysterical but it was apparent by the

look on his face that something was very wrong. Lightning was on the podium today as Monarch's crew chief, looking worriedly at Chick. The olds-

mobile held a note in front of him. It read in hurried script: "CUT YOUR MIC OFF WITH MONARCH. MAKE SURE MONARCH CAN'T HEAR YOU;

EMERGENCY." The last word was underlined twice. Oh, god. Lightning could tell this wasn't at all good. Whatever his fellow crew chief needed to

say, Monarch didn't need to hear it. Lightning instantly pressed the MUTE button on his control in front of him. He couldn't take off his head set

because to Monarch that might let him on that something was awry, and he appeared as casual as he could. "Chick-what is it???" he was truly

unnerved by the way Chick was looking. Other Dinoco employees were coming out to the sponsor area, including Doc, who appeared to be

struggling to keep his composure together. His wife was simply too upset to join him right now. She was in the Dinoco vip room with King and his

wife, being consoled. Chick's eyes cooly surveyed the area of track to note Monarch's position before nervously eying up at Lightning. He shook

his head. "Jane's plane never made it in---there's news reports in the lobby of a plane crash. They're saying it's Jane's flight that crashed. They

gave the flight info; it was her plane. They even SAID on the news that it was confirmed to be carrying the wife and child of Monarch Hudson..."

Chick spoke with a mix of disdain at the thought that the media didn't even have the decency to wait to release that information publicly, rather

than allow SOME privacy. "What do you mean Jane's plane has CRASHED???!" Lightning spoke quietly, still in a state of denial at what he had just

heard. He was sure he couldn't be heard, but continued to talk as though he was trying to keep his conversation from being picked up from

Monarch. What he didn't know was that mute button had malfunctioned on his head piece and didn't cut the conversation off. "I mean her plane

crashed. I've been speaking to airport officials in Dallas; it WAS HER FLIGHT. I just saw news footage of the crash site; the plane is fucking GONE.

There's nothing left of the plane. All two-hundred on board --NO SURVIVORS." Chick was frantic, about to break down in tears himself. But he had

to hold himself together. Out on the track Monarch appeared to suddenly slow down for no reason. His expression went blank in a cross of shock

and absorbing what he had just heard relayed to him through his communication piece. He had just heard everything Lightning and Chick said.

"Ohhhhh GOD." was all Lightning could groan out through Monarch's com-link as the hybrid came to a dangerously slow crawl on the track,

completely oblivious to the other cars roaring past him over a hundred miles per hour.

**_Commentator 2: "I....something's going on here Rick. Monarch Hudson is just stopping in the middle of the track."_**

Realizing the dangerous predicament he was placing himself and the other cars in, Monarch moved quickly off the track and into the nearest exit,

heading straight out of the stadium. At the Dinoco area Lightning and Chick were deafly silent, listening to Monarch's rapid breathing through their

earpieces. They knew now they had been heard once discovering that Lightning's mute feature had failed. Lightning knocked his headset off with

a tire. "Darn." he hissed to himself. "He heard me." Doc and Chick went after Monarch. Ignoring the flashbulbs and heated questions of why he

was quitting the race with victory within his grasp, Monarch inched his way past, keeping his blank look. It became apparent soon enough what

was going on. Monarch drove quietly out, oblivious to the caravan of press cars behind him while Doc cursed everyone of them to get at his son.

Monarch quietly opened the gate to his residence and went inside, allowing the gates to softly shut the swarm of paparazzi and media out. He

quietly disappeared inside, and even the photographers were dismayed as to what was going on. King, Chick, Lightning, Doc and others were on

their way, resorting to a police escort to get them to Monarch.

Back at the stadium confirmed rumors began to circulate among once-confused bystanders and other racers what led to the bizarre vanishing of

Monarch Hudson. Even the Piston Cup winner that evening felt horrible for Monarch. This was a bittersweet moment for many there, sadness and

triumph. Joy for the car who won, agony for Monarch. Jane Hudson and his baby girl, in an instant, taken from him. First Icky, now this.

Monarch was found inside staring dully at the television screen. "Amway Flight 2006 bound from New York to Dallas with more than 230 crashed

about 30 miles from Dallas International Airport. There are no reported survivors. Witnesses on the ground said the plane appeared to be having

engine trouble as it tried to make an emergency landing at Dallas Airport and when it crashed it dove nose-first into the ground at a speed of

nearly 500 miles per hour..." What was nothing more than a large scorch mark in the earth marked where the impact site had been. Then part of

a landing gear tire came into view. There was smoke, and whatever parts of vehicle/plane remains there were it was too graphic to be shown.

Most who perished were likely vaporized upon impact. Monarch heard nothing the anchor car was saying, so focused on the image on the screen

he was. His wife and daughter, what was left of them if anything, was out there in that hell hole of an impact crater. "...it has now been confirmed

that among the dead was the wife and daughter of race car Monarch Hudson who was racing his second Piston Cup when he received the news

of this tragedy..his wife was Le Mans racer and winner Janiot Marceaux, France's first ever female champion....." He didn't even notice that his

father had come in and gently took the remote from him to switch off the tv. All his son could do was look at him, his expression completely

emotionless. Either he was in denial about this or was too shocked yet to form an emotion. Others quietly began filtering in behind Doc to huddle

around Monarch while outside his residence, a large crowd of fans had begun to gather. Even the paparazzi backed off as they began to learn

what had occurred and simply waited patiently outside, eager to give Monarch and his family some measure of privacy. The first of many balloons,

cards, flowers and stuffed toys began to pile up by his drive way. Inside, Monarch could do nothing more than sit there and stare ahead as loved

ones gathered around him.

**This is close to being done....next chapter will go up Tuesday, maybe Monday. See you later.**


	14. The Farewell Message From Jane

As cars filtered in and out of the Hudson residence all day while Monarch sat perched in a corner of his living room, eerily silent. Different autos

grieved in different ways. While it was true like most mourners Monarch would often cry, this time around, he didn't even shed tears. It wasn't

because he couldn't. He wasn't ready to accept defeat just yet. All those around him could tell that it just hadn't quite registered with him that his

wife and child were deceased. He was still in denial about it although he never verbally said so, just his actions alone gave away his doubts

about the plane crash, even when it was on TV. No matter how remote the possibility seemed, his body language emitted the futile sliver of hope

that any moment Jane would come rolling through the door with baby in tow. It was as if he was refusing to believe that his wife was gone. He

_was_ in denial about it. The first chance he got when no one was watching him, he quietly slipped down the hall to the bedroom garage he and

Jane shared. Right away he noticed the flashing message light on the phone unit. Right! Maybe one of them was from his wife. Telling him she had

gotten in safely and was on her way home. "_**First new message, dated: today, at: six, twenty-four P.M. From: phone number: two, two, **_

_**two, four-two-four, zero three six. Four. Marked, urgent**_." the computerized female voice recording began, giving away the identified phone

number as Jane's cell phone. He was right, it was a message from Jane. Almost instantly, others had followed him, understandably concerned for

him, one of which included that evening's Piston Cup winner, a veteran coupe. "Son?" Doc started when he entered the master bedroom. "This is

a message from Jane; maybe she came in on a different plane or something. She's alright you see?" Monarch beamed at him, but the smile faded

at his father's solemn stare. Doc watched his boy. Yes, his daughter-in-law was alright, but not in the way his son wanted to believe. In Doc's

view, she was alright now as far as being in a much better place, an eternal one at that, because she had been called home.

There was a long silence before the message began. Then Jane's voice came on, somewhat strained, as if she was struggling not to burst out

crying on the phone. The baby, Paris was crying loudly. Other sounds could be heard in the back ground, like prayers, soft weeping, somewhat

panicked but not extreme. But Jane could be heard very clearly. "{Monarch, I'm sorry but it looks I may miss your race after all. I hope you are

okay. I'm calling you because....there is a small problem with the plane. He's having trouble staying in the air and he's trying to make an

emergency landing. He and the flight attendants told us to brace ourselves for a rough landing. They're trying to be calm about it but I believe it

to be more serious than they are letting on, you know? Our pilot is really struggling to control himself and I can hear it in his voice. A little engine

trouble that's all. I want to stay positive but I truly don't believe I will survive this. In the event that I don't I want you to know that I love you

very, very much. You were the greatest thing to ever happen to me, you and Paris both. Speaking of Paris, she's a little upset right now because

of all the noise. I'm calming her as I speak. Please tell your parents I love them, please tell my family ditto. And don't worry about me. IF I do go, if

we both go, I can assure you, it will be quick. For that at least, I am grateful. We won't suffer too much." she let out a weak laugh. Then she

turned serious again. "I love you so much, Monarch. No matter what happens, you stick to that race. Win or lose know this: you were always

number one with me. Always. I am a little scared and I'm not in any pain right now, neither is the baby." It was in her tone, she WAS scared. Yet she was trying so hard to sound brave. She was determined to meet her end defiantly. "I want you to be brave Monarch. For even if we go home,

it will be a better place than here. I'm so sorry my love because this is going to hurt you so much more than it will us, but go on. _And live_. You

understand? Good bye honey.}" Jane's voice broke down into a barely audible whisper at the end. She never hung up her end and only seconds

after she spoke her last word, sudden commotion could be heard of the plane's engine screaming full blast as it plummeted to earth. Terrified

screams could also be heard from passengers along with Jane's soft weeping. Monarch visualized Jane cradling her daughter, their daughter in an

embrace as only a mother could in their final moments of life. It was chaos in the background until the answering machine suddenly beeped it's

end, having reached the limit of its recording and cutting off seconds before the god-awful impact of the crippled plane.

It was now beginning to set in to Monarch as he stared at the blinking red dot of the answering machine. He swallowed and resolved himself to

defeat. "They're not alive, are they?" he asked the crowd gathered at the door. "No son, they're not" answered Doc. Still Monarch kept a straight

face, and drove over to Jane's vanity where he noticed the framed picture of their wedding day. He hung his front low with a long sigh. He

seemed to be gathering his wits together and put on a reverent face before going back into the den to face the well-wishers. Everyone jumped

and became startled at a loud crash when they saw Monarch knock the wedding photo off the dresser with his front tire. Hurling angry slurs with

each attack, he targeted several other items within his grasp he slapped them off as well and noisily sent them flying into the wall beside him. He

topped it off by flipping over the entire dresser when he rammed into it, completely breaking down in the middle of the destruction he created.

"Come on son. Come on." Doc took him into his hold and led him from the room while other gathered nearby.

Very little was found of the passengers or the plane himself. Only two whole cars were found and it still took weeks to identify them due to the

extensive damage they had. One had been burned beyond recognition, but it had already been determined that he died from the impact rather

than the ensuing fire itself. It had been determined that everyone on board, including the plane were killed instantly. Pieces of vehicles were

found and identified, many more never were found at all. In that case, the only evidence that verified them as passengers on Flight 2006 were

from records in airport computers as well as relatives who knew for certain that loved ones were on the doomed flight. The impact of the crash

was so great that almost nothing; plane or car was left, long disintegrated by the heat. Enough of Paris and Jane were found to have a burial,

but not an open casket one. They were too disfigured for it. A makeshift memorial had already been set up near the crash site and while families

planned for funerals and services of their own, a public memorial was in the works to remember the plane and his passengers who perished with

him. That ceremony was to take place next month. In the meantime Monarch said his good byes to his small family. He kissed the tiny vault and

then the larger one next to it. "You both can sleep now." he whispered to the remains of his wife, as if she could hear him through the layer of

flowers quilting her coffin.

A four month hiatus and Monarch was back in the tracks, flinging asphalt. Again he won 23 races in a row this time, including the Nevada 500 and

was again poised to enter the Piston Cup in four more months.

His baby sister was growing increasingly sicker.

She was in the final stages of the disease that would eventually claim her life.

When Prince learned she was expecting again this time she was even more excited. Unlike with Monarch, she was no longer afraid, not even of

the pain of birthing because she knew now what to expect. Flo was right, being in love with the man of one's dreams would make a car want to

keep going through it just for him. Prince would have had fifty babies for Doc if she could.

Diana was born healthy like her brother but when she was two years old her parents began to notice odd things about her. She moved stiffly, as

if her limbs hurt her and being so young she couldn't really tell them what was going on. Doc had his suspicions but prayed he was wrong.

Fearfully, he was correct. Michael broke to grave news that Diana had an extremely rare defect in her frame, something one was born with. It

didn't "develop" later in life, it was a genetic deformity that developed prior to birth. It was so uncommon that there were only about a hundred

known cases world wide, doctors didn't know what caused this affliction nor was there a cure for it. And it always was fatal. It was a disease that

caused one's own body to reject his or her frame work. For whatever reason, that car's system saw the very frame it was born with as a foreign

object and began attacking it, turning its defenses on the one body it was supposed to protect. What resulted was years, even decades of the

vehicle's frame starting to rust from the inside out. Any car could rust if he or she didn't care for himself properly. Even then, rusting was not

"painful" by any means because rusted parts on the outside could easily be repainted or replaced. Rusting was no big deal, those who rusted all

over like Mater and Fred, generally just tended to be those who never were big on appearances to begin with. Other than that they still led

normal lives. Any car that didn't care for himself properly would start to rust. But normal rusting occurred only on the outside. Internal rusting was

uncommon and if it did happen, usually a quick trip to mechanic fixed that.

For those afflicted with what Diana had, they were terminally ill. they could be stunning by outward appearances but were falling apart--literally--

on the INSIDE. These victims started out perfectly normal, and they looked normal even when they had a full-blown relapse from their remission,

but inside, they had mounds of ionized metal that left a trail behind them wherever they went. Entire sections of them came off. All of their

internal components just inexplicably began to corrode to the point of dust. Everything literally rotted out of them and without certain things like

mufflers and engines, vehicles simply could not live. Eventually rust-like patches began to show all over their bodies. It was terrible to watch. And

it was slow and excruciating. Worsening the fact was that they were unable to receive new transplanted parts. Their bodies would reject ANY

replacement parts they had as it did their own frames. If their systems attacked their own frames and destroyed those, they never accepted a

donor frame or part piece. So surgery was not an option. All that could be done was slow the progress of the rust build up through drugs. And the

drug treatment often made the patients very sick and weak. Also, the pain of the disease could be managed to allow the car to live as normal a

life as possible, but eventually it reached a point where nothing more could be done except make the sufferer final months comfortable. No car

with this baffling affliction ever lived to be over fifty. Diana was very ill.

**Next chap coming very soon!! By Thur or Friday.**


	15. Victory

**Oops...I forgot to post this yesterday like I promised. I'm so sorry.**

Honoring her final request, the hospital in Radiator Springs allowed Diana to be transported via a medical 737 plane to a hospital nearby in Detroit

where this year's Piston Cup was to be held. She wanted to be near her brother when he raced this one. It was unlikely that she would live to

see another month because she had now reached the point where she could no longer even rise up on her own. Her breathing was so weak that

she needed the assistance of a machine to keep her going.

_Just a few days prior she told Monarch that she wanted him to race in the Cup._

**Few days earlier**:

"I know this is asking alot of you 'Narc, but don't worry about me." "Narc " was her big brother's nickname since they were small. "What my wish

is is for you to just race. Yeah, I know, just like Icky and Jane wanted you to do. I suppose it sucks, doesn't it?" Diana grinned weakly. Monarch

swallowed. "Yeah it does. It sucks really bad Sis. This is like a jinx or something, me and this Piston Cup thing. Third race in the row and

something...bad had happened." Monarch attempted vainly to inject some humor into the situation. She just smiled at him. "I know this is asking

a lot of you. I know it is. I'm laying here dying and I'm asking you to do this. My last wish on this earth is to see you racing. I want that to be my

last vision of you. I don't care if you come last Narc. Just promise you'll cross the line all the way this time." Monarch nodded. "Yeah sis. I will." It

was a promise. No breaking down in mid race this time. Half of him wanted to stay here with her, said it was the right thing to do. His other half

told him to honor her wish. But he felt like he had been made a racer to show how racers should perform under pressure or some shit. He really

felt like that great car-god in the clouds set a curse upon him. Deaths in his family seemed to happen only when he raced, he noticed. Maybe

the Almighty was trying to tell him that racing was not meant for him?

Somehow they both knew that this would be the last conversation they would ever have because just hours later, a clot brought on by her

disease caused her to become completely paralyzed and she slipped into a coma. She came to just yesterday but she was not the same. She

continued to have little "mini-strokes" since, each one crippling her worse than the last, and all of her functions were failing. Even her throat was

paralyzed; she could no longer talk. She looked like a terrible half-rusted shell, withered away in places that bare parts of her frame had been

exposed. Some of her was still unscathed, and she had decided that if any part of her could be used to help other cars then she was willing to

donate what could be salvaged. Doctors had determined a while back that being a donor would not infect other vehicles with what she had due

to her condition being purely genetic and not contaigious.

Now Monarch sat looking at her, the once-various tubes removed from her. His parents had made the decision to remove her from the feeding

tube as it only prolonged her suffering. Stand corrected, just hours from death, she no longer had the capability to absorb any kind of nutriment

whatsoever, therefore the feeding tube had become worthless. Doc and Prince had been assured that she could no longer feel any discomfort; it

was just a matter of time before it was all over. It could take hours, or even days, they say, but she would not "starve" or suffer. Diana had now

reached the point where she could no longer feel anything. She could still hear but that was about all. She no longer had any sensation, or no

sight but she heard Monarch talking to her as he got ready to leave for the Piston Cup track on the other side of the city. "Mom. Pops." he told his

parents good bye. They had decided to stay at the hospital with their daughter; it was what everyone wanted, including Diana and Monarch.

Prince was clearly torn up at the idea that this would most likely be Diana's last day alive but in the face of losing a child as she watched her

healthy one, she kept a brave expression. "Tear the asphalt up kid. And stay strong you hear?" Doc told him. "Yeah Pops." Monarch found himself

talking out of the side of his mouth in a crooked fashion, another one of his famous like-father-like-son traits. As Monarch left the hospital, there

was a small and orderly crew of media along with a throng of fans. Even the paparazzi were well behaved, requesting Monarch if they could take

his photograph first. Astonished once again by their rare show of civility, he smiled warmly and granted permission with a slight nod of his head.

Even so, this time the rouge ameteur photograpers were diligent in the way they handled themselves. Monarch was grateful. He was in fact one

of the few famous faces that tolerated the paparazzi, and for this they often showed professional restraint around him.

The race coverage to the track was closely monitored by a world wide audience. Not surprisingly again one of the major pre-game hi lights was

the situation surrounding "The Spawn of Doc Hudson" and his personal tragedies. Enroute to the track Monarch received the news he dreaded

most: "Monarch. Your sister's gone. She just died." Doc's voice spoke quietly, tinged with his attempt to restrain from crying aloud." A knot formed

in Monarch's throat. "Be brave." sis told him days before. "Okay." was Monarch's answer. "Okay Pops. Do me a favor. Hold Mom for us, ey? She's

gonna need you alot more than me." "You bet kid." Dad's voice spoke back. Monarch disconnected his internal cell line. Damn. Well wasn't this a

bitch. She didn't even live long enough to see him race. Take that back--she could no longer see now. Lost her sight hours ago. Couldn't even

hear the race. Now was not the time to cry. He had a race to do. For Icky. For his wife and child. And now for Sis. Before he even

reached the track news of his sister's death had gotten out to spectators. Yet he ignored it. The crowd went crazy when he entered and took his

spot in line after a brief get together with his pit crew. The cheering went on non stop.

_**Commentator 2: "And, there he is, back again this year, after a wonderful start to this season in the midst of losing his wife and **_

_**daughter to a **__**terrible plane crash last year, and before that the loss of his good friend Icky Blazer. A fellow race car with a promising **_

_**future of his own. And **__**now....we had just received news here in the SpeedWay Stadium that his sister had indeed passed away very **_

_**shortly ago. His parents as I **__**understand have remained at the hospital with his sister, but they are watching this race."**_

**_Commentator 1: "This young car's Piston Cup career has been plagued with tragedy after tragedy during previous Piston races; it's _**

**_almost like _****_some sort of curse Bryan." "I agree Rick. But....indeed he is to be admired. Listen to this crowd. He said on his way here he _**

**_was determined to _****_finish this race today, regardless of where he stands in results."_**

He knew his parents were watching him from a screen at the hospital. Perhaps they were in Diana's room grieving her. He didn't know. He

planned to maintain his resolve with them watching; he was determined to finish this race and now break down like a pussy in front of them

AGAIN. With Chick Hicks acting as his crew chief today, and the support of those rallying around him, Monarch had the lead immediately. He had

now perfected his turns, and was flawless in this race. In mid race as he stopped in the pits to have his tires changed he said not one word. He

was too focused on finishing. Not necessarily winning, just _finishing_. So he failed to notice all of the excitement Chick was venting at him about him

being almost nine laps ahead now, a FIRST in Piston Cup history. He didn't even know he was that far ahead and honestly missed that part of it

too. Everything Chick, Lightning and the excited forklifts were hailing at him went completely out of his sideviews like the insanely chanting crowd

shouting his name over and over. He heard none of it as his thoughts remained focused on his last conversations with his dying sister.

"_Finish that race_."

As soon as he felt the last tire drilled into place he peeled off leaving his crew in a haze of smoke with burnt tire tracks as the only indication that

he had even been there. He didn't hear any of the cacophony in the stadium, sea of 150,000 cars, truck, and vans practically leaping on their

wheels in anticipation of his secured trophy. He didn't notice that the commentators were going bonkers at what they were witnessing. He didn't

even notice that the other racers were far behind him, he had sped so fast. He had the checkered flag in his cross hairs to the point where he

developed tunnel vision, totally unaware that he was in fact the only car for several dozen feet roaring at it. He had left his competitors in the

dust and didn't even _know it_.

**_Commentors:_**

**_"THIS IS IT HE'S GONNA WIN THE PISTON CUP!!! THE SON OF THE FABULOUS HUDSON HORNET'S GOT IT!!" "HE'S GOT IT AND A NEW _**

**_WORLD SPEED RECORD!!!!"_**

The checkered flag breezed over Monarch's hear as he began to slow down, still not aware that he had sealed the victory. Not only that but had

set a new record in speed time. He rumbled around the trap in a final post lap, staring at the ground in front of him totally oblivious that he had

won until he finally realized that Chick was screaming at him though his com piece. He was so excited Monarch couldn't even make out what he

was saying. "WHAT??" He yelled over the noise.

**_Commentator 1: "I don't think he even realize he's won the race!"_**

"YOU DID IT! YOU GOT THE CUP! YOU GOT THE CUP!!" Chick cried out in a frenzy. It was then that Monarch looked up and saw it. The led signs

flashing the Piston Cup trophy along with his name. The noise of the crowd so large that his sense of hearing was ringing. At the hospital Doc and

Prince held each other in a joyful embrace. Others in the waiting room were jumping up and down in a wild celebration. Was Monarch seeing this

right? He continued to survey the area, still wondering if he was hallucinating. Up in the Dinoco VIP the response was just as rowdy.

**_Commentator 1: "I don't think it's set in yet that he did win, he looks like he can't believe it either."_**

And he couldn't. Monarch was staring at the results on the huge plasma over the stadium, still wondering if he was dreaming. Noticing all eyes on

him, realization finally set in. He had indeed won. He didn't put on the usual "flaunt my victory in every one else's face" so many were capable of.

Right there on the track, he sank low on his tires, his eyes fixated up at the sky. "Icky. Jane and Paris. Sis. This race was for all of you." he said to

the sky. Tears welled up on his shield but he kept himself in check. "This win is for all of you.

****Okay.....one more chapter to go which will be next week Monday or Tuesday. And then....****I'll think of something else. See you.**


	16. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please Read ASAP

Notice to my reader(s)

I want to apologize first for not posting yesterday as I promised. I've been a caregiver for a grandmother (which is a 24-hour job) and she passed away yesterday morning. I checked on her in middle of the night to find she was gone. She didn't even have anyone at her side and was alone when she died and I'm pretty torn up about it. This was a grandmother who helped raise me for the first sixteen years of my life and I was very close to her.

As you can imagine, I wasn't exactly in the mood to get on this site and update anything yesterday. Because of the current circumstances it will be several days before I can get the final chapter of this story up....

Some of my chapters I type up the night before and then post the next day, most chapters to my stories I think them up as I type; they just come up to me while on the keyboard. This final chapter I already had thought up in my head. I just haven't typed it up yet. It's already done thought-wise.

So the good news is, the last chapter WILL be posted very, very soon, as in by this Friday (I hope), or some time next week, and I promise you, **NO** **LATER** **THAN THE END OF** **NEXT** **WEEK**. Please understand that I just need some grief time right now.

And I hope you take care....again sorry for the inconvience. Once again, expect an update to this soon!


	17. Closure

**Notice to my reader(s) this is the last chapter of this.**

**_Now, I added a little Transformers tribute in here. If you think it looks corny, let me know and I may edit it out. I thought it was sort of cool. I know this is a bit off tact because this is Cars, but just to let you know that the TF race car is *not* my idea. There really IS a Transformers NASCAR race car driven by Kyle Busch._**

To no one's surprise, all of the talk about the race for that evening was of Monarch Hudson's sudden win. Doc and Prince cried at the hospital. For

them it was a bittersweet moment. They cried tears of sadness for losing Diana while weeping joyously for the success of their distraught son.

After being surrounded on the field by a wildl- excited pit crew and close friends, Monarch didn't stay on the track long. He departed as soon as

he could, swamped in a sea of press and photographers. He said not one word the entire time as he left with a small entourage back to Dinoco's

main tent, where he retreated inside for some time alone. He had no comments at the moment, too stunned yet to realize he had won. King,

Chick and Lightning dealt with the press for him, beaming in their pride of him, as well as sharing his loss over his sister. Like his parents, this too

had been a semi-victorious day for them. This particular day's race would be the talk of the world for some weeks to come.

Monarch finally addressed the eager press the next morning and kept his victory speech short and to the point. He thanked everyone for believing

in him, for supporting him, as well as admitting to being not able to comprehend that he had indeed won the race in response to one journalist's

questions about his shocked expression. He simply said that he was humbled by his win, was still in a state of denial about it, and was courteous

in answering questions pertaining to his deceased sister. The media was very professional about it, expressing their condolences for his loss and

he thanked him for it. He patiently tried to answer as many questions as he could even if several were thrown at him at once. He told them that

this win was for all of those he loved and then lost. After about 19 minutes Monarch politely ended the international interview, promising to

schedule more at a later date.

That night he sat in his hotel room with the Piston trophy sitting on a table in front of him, sobbing quietly. Now he was weeping for Sis. He never

liked crying in front of others. Now that he was solitary, he could finally break down and let it go. He was half-looking at/half-looking past it. His

gaze went distant as he began drifting into a recollection of past events that led up to this. When the image of seeing his open-mouthed reaction

on the replay video after being slapped by Icky illicited a sudden fit of laughter from Monarch, and it briefly overrode his tear-streaked face. That

moment was still comical years later. Quickly, his laugh began to fade as he thought about how badly Icky died, how Mercy couldn't even have an

open funeral for him because he was deformed by the wreck. He tried to think of what went through his wife's mind in her final moments of life on

the plane, and even wondered what the plane felt as he plummeted to the ground. He must have been just as terrified as his passengers in the

face of remaining calm and professional as only a pilot could do. He thought about the good times he had with Sis, and the bad ones. Oh, she was

the typical brat when they were growing up, always snitching on him. Like any big sibling, there were times when Monarch couldn't stand Diana.

As a kid growing up he wanted to flatten her pesky fender under his tires. But like most siblings, the older they got, the closer they became.

Monarch would beat up other kids who bullied her at school or teased her about her disease. Big brothers did that. Diana idolized her big bro'.

And they often covered each other's tail pipes from Mom and Dad if one did something bad. He smiled again flooded with those warm memories.

Almost lazily, he shifted to turn out the light and turned in for the night.

**Present**:

Monarch felt good leaving the trophy at this crypt site. It sat right in between the vaults of Jane and Paris with Diana's urn in the middle. He

turned to the adjacent crypt that held his friend Icky Blazer. Since Icky had become so close to them, Mercy wanted him buried in the Hudson

mausoleum. The others watched as Monarch addressed Icky's tomb as if he was still alive. "I'm not leaving you out dude. I swear to you, the next

trophy is YOURS." he spoke, observing the large framed photograph of he and Icky together showing off their Dinoco colors together. The little

private ceremony now over, the party left.

The very next year Monarch Hudson won his 2nd Piston Cup, and true to his word, placed that one by Icky's vault. Another good season was to

follow him and the year following this he did something entirely different. Something that sent the fans over the edge, even those not cheering

for him. Dinoco had teamed up with a movie studio to promote their new movie, "Transformers- Revenge of The Fallen". The film was a sequel to

their first and being as highly anticipated as it was, it was perceived to be a good idea if Monarch Hudson sported a Transformers theme this

year. He kept his distinctive blue coat on but was painted front to end in a dazzling array of the movie Optimus Prime and Megatron and various

autobots/decepticons on either side of him. On his top spoiler was the Dinoco lettering with a decepticon/autobot logo on either side. This time,

he was racing in the Piston Cup Revenge of The Fallen style it seemed like alot of vehicles liked it. Again, Monarch won his third Piston Cup in a

row. Like his father, he became the only race car in history ever to do it, win three back-to-back. Not to mention that the movie he and Dinoco

helped promote: Transformers 2--made a killing at the box office.

The widower race car eventually found love again in a somewhat plain Jane reporter who had a terrible habit of running into things due to not

paying attention. She was no knock out like Jane was or Prince. She was a simple Ford focus, rather nerdy and clumsy, and a reporter for a major

newspaper. She was however very smart. If somewhat...out there. With a huge crush on Monarch, she often cowered from him when he was

around, too shy to approach him which included an awkward encounter at a gas station. In any case, Monarch took a liking to her, his parents

adored her as much as they did Jane. Monarch eventually would remarry, this time, marry this focus and would have more children, two boys and

two girls. His career would also span, with him going on to win the most Piston Cups in history. A total of 25 Piston Cups. Like Doc Hudson,

Monarch Hudson persevered.


End file.
